


a cactus and a lily find a common pot to grow

by highonbrunost



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, F/F, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian AU, Recreational Drug Use, Some angst, Tale as Old as Time, Teacher AU, Unintentional Slow Burn, angsty but funny, burn as slow as fuck, who am I kidding we all know this is angst city
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 00:10:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 84,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11794362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highonbrunost/pseuds/highonbrunost
Summary: PROMPT: Person A is a drama teacher and has to set up the school play with new art teacher, person B, who they think is a ginormous asshole and just a tiny bit cuteIn other words, Trixie is an official good girl with a perfect life until Katya happens.





	1. part 1 - a cactus and a lily find a common pot to grow

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time trying to post something I hope it doesn't suck  
> ***this is just a test i have no actual idea what i'm doing***

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (I was going to make this into a series but after posting the third chapter I gave it up so now it's gonna be one whole thing, yay! enjoy this angsty little piece and thank you so much for reading!)

Trixie Mattel is a good girl – the very type that doesn’t drink or smoke or cuss. She’s a kind hearted spirit who believes that “animals are friends, not food”, does yoga every morning and happens to be exceptionally good at baking. Everybody knows her as the surprisingly young and dedicated Drama teacher at Alverton High, the girl who does volunteer work and goes to church every Sunday – you can ask anyone who’s ever met her and they’ll all agree: she is the nicest human being on Earth. 

You can tell that from the small things, like smiling at people she passes by on the street or never raising her voice when she has to prove a point, to the most impactful ones, such as being the number one anti-bullying advocate at school or starting fundraisers for the local animal shelter, nursing home or church. Trixie is lovely to everyone she meets, she doesn’t gossip or makes mean comments and will absolutely call you out if she catches you doing so. Her senior quote was “if you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothing at all”. What a saint. 

What people around her tend to forget is that, no matter how kind or well-balanced or angelical Trixie is, she’s still human – and, just like every other human, she has a few pet peeves of her own. One of them is a blonde Russian called Katya, who’s been welcomed into the school staff last semester, which is about the same time Trixie’s peace of mind threw itself out the window. 

There is no logical explanation to this, but the whole idea of Katya makes her stomach twist. From her inappropriate humor, her bright red lips and the smoking all the way to her inconveniently loud voice, the wrecked outfits and the bold accent. She pushes all of Trixie’s buttons and she can’t even tell you why. From the day they met and she looked into her eyes, she just knew there was something unsettling about her, even if she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Well that “something” soon became “everything” and she is now very convinced that the only person she will ever hate is Katya Zamolodchikova – and she tries, but she isn’t sorry about it.

This explains why, as she walks into the principal’s office and spots a laughing Russian with lipstick on her teeth, her only will is to turn back and walk out of the building, and just keep walking until her legs fall out. She’d rather eat meat, she’d rather swear in church, anything but Katya.

“Good afternoon Principal Charles, Ms. Zamolodchikova”, she greets them and shakes hands with the man behind the desk, trying carefully not to knock over any of the million portraits he has on it. Her effort to keep a natural-looking smile is making her cheeks hurt a little.

“Ms. Mattel, thank you for joining us. How did the first day of the term go for you?” he asks politely as she sits down on the chair next to Katya and crosses her ankles (princesses do not cross their legs).

“It went very smoothly, thank you for asking”, she replies with a smile. “The kids seem very excited for what’s to come.”

“Now, isn’t that precious! May I ask how many students have signed up for your class this year?” he asks and raises an eyebrow. And then Trixie realizes it, maybe a little too late considering she’s known him since she was fifteen: it’s a test. RuPaul is up to something, and knowing who’s sitting next to her right now, it’s not a good something.  
“We have five 10th graders, twenty 11th graders, seven 13th graders and three seniors. That’s thirty-five signed up for the year”, she answers as pleasantly as possible. He lets out a big sigh and her heart is now pounding. This is not gonna be good. 

“We were just discussing your numbers, right Ms. Zamolodchikova? If I’m not wrong you have a total of 30 students as well, yes?” he rests his elbows on the desk and brings his hands closer to his chin. Hadn’t she been sure before, she is now: they’re in big trouble and at this point, nobody can save them.  
Katya nods. “Correct. Most of them are 11th graders, sir.” Sir, Trixie thinks, she actually calls people sir. At first, it sounds funny in her head, but then she realizes it does, in fact, show more respect and now she’s mad at Katya for being such an ass-kisser. 

“Well, ladies, Alverton High is proud to call itself an arts and culture supporter, and we are very honored to have such wonderful teachers to represent our departments of Arts and Drama…”, the principal says as he looks them both dead in the eye. Katya is still smiling and Trixie wonders if she has any idea the size of the bomb he is about to drop. “But, unfortunately, I do have some bad news.”

Now she isn’t smiling anymore. He continues, still sounding a little too careful, like a father who has to tell his kids where babies actually come from. “Both of your subjects have dropped severely in the number of students in comparison with last year. The two of you used to have two different groups for Art and Drama, but now each of you has only one and that worries me.” Neither the Russian nor Trixie are blinking or breathing. “With that in mind, the School Council has decided that the 30% extra budget you were getting for your projects, such as the Alverton High Arts Exhibition and the Spring Musical will be directed to the Sports department, which has increased number in both students and audiences. Now, we still appreciate cultural events, but the cuts in your budget mean that only one of your projects can happen this year.”

Trixie almost expects him to tell them they have to fight to the death for the winner to make her own project happen because she feels ready to stab someone. But that’s only until she looks at Katya and reads “murder” written all over her face. If that had been the case, she’d have let Katya take it because she’s sure she’d die in a minute or so.  
Since none of them has said anything for the past twenty seconds, Trixie clears her throat and asks: “Very well, sir, have you made a choice yet?”

“Yes, I have.” He answers now Katya’s red, chipped nails are digging deep into the armrest of her leather chair. Trixie is counting her breaths. Inhale…one, two, three, and four… Now exhale. He cannot take the musical away from her, he would be crazy to try. It is true that less and less students are interested in Drama, but the Alverton High Spring Musical is a city classic! Everyone loves watching them every year… Well, now thinking about it, lately, they haven’t had any full nights anymore… But the audience doesn’t matter anyway, the kids do, and those who are in it, are in it for real. Ms. Mattel’s Drama class is the safe haven for the shy ones who ought to find their voice, for the misfits to find a place for themselves, for those who don’t know what path they are gonna follow to find what else is there inside them besides confusion. Theater is too important for those kids for Trixie to let anyone take it away from them.  
… Unless this “anyone” is Mr. Charles, the principal – in that case, there isn’t much for her to do.  
“Well, the School Council and I decided to make a fair balance between both projects and, as it turns out, we’ve had the biggest audiences attend to our beloved Spring Musical. Therefore, the musical is still happening, but on a 5% extra budget.” The principal finishes and waits for their response. In her head, Trixie can only be glad Mr. Charles is not a math teacher – who would take a 30 down to a 5? Jesus, Mary, Joseph, this is not right.

“I don’t mean to question your authority, but Mr. Charles… That is barely enough for the flyers”, Trixie furrows her brow and speaks softly.

“Yes, I am very aware of that. And this is why I have decided, as a way to recognize the hard work that Ms. Zamolodchikova has been putting into her Exhibitions and classes, that both of you will work as a conjoined class for the year. That means the Art students get to participate in the musical that you both will be coordinating,” Mr. Charles belts with the smile of someone who’s just solved world hunger (but from the looks on her face, is yet to solve Katya’s thirst for blood).

“Excuse me?” she says, and now her nails are not buried in the chair anymore. “I’m sorry but my students aren’t performers, they’re barely even artists yet. How are we supposed to integrate them into this whole… thing?”

“Well, Ms. Zamolodchikova, I am sure that the two smart, young and creative ladies that you are will be able to sort the details in a short amount of time, yes?” He smiles and nods. “Think of the kids, Miss, I’m sure they’re gonna feel very privileged to be mentored by such attentive and talented professionals as you are!”

“That sounds wonderful, Principal Charles!” Katya exclaims, rolling her R’s the same way Trixie is about to roll down the stairs until she reaches hell. “It sure is a great opportunity for my pupils to develop their artistic abilities in more than one way. I’m sure Ms. Mattel feels the exact same strong feelings that I do right now.”

Ms. Mattel is having a slight difficulty to breathe and all she manages to spill is “Yes, I sure do. This will be great for the kids.” She is so numb she doesn’t even notice she’s still smiling because on the inside she’s killed both of them in twelve different ways already.

“Well, I am so glad we went over this with a good understanding of each other. We are on a very low budget this year, and we had to sacrifice a few luxuries, I hope you ladies understand that. It has been decided that our top priority this year is our football team and thus we shall direct our major expenses to them. You know, sport has been changing these kids’ lives.” He nods and stands up. “Well, I still understand how important the musical is for our community and I figured by making you project partners, everybody wins!”

Trixie thought she was furious before but now? Now she’s full-on psychotic, even though she’s pretty sure nobody can tell. Her kind and sweet nature make it hard for people to understand she goes from “calm” to “murderous rage” in 0.2 seconds. According to her fiancé, Trixie’s face is too pretty to be wasted with a frown – he always tells her to smile more. Especially when she’s upset about something he’s said or done, Ian always tells her that she’s not really angry, she’s only frustrated, and it’ll wear off in a second or two. Part of her thinks that yeah, he’s right, it’s just frustration – the musical isn’t that important anyway, but another part of her brain, a lot smaller but also angrier, keeps shouting NONONO RUPAUL DOES NOT HAVE THE RIGHT TO DO THIS AND YOU KNOW IT at full volume. She chooses to ignore the latter. Ian is always right. 

While Trixie’s still on that train of thought, Katya smiles softly at the man across from her and says, with such irony and rage in her voice that it gives the Drama teacher a few goose bumps, “Thanks for the consideration, Principal Charles. It is very comforting to know that we are cherished by a school that is oh, so supportive of Arts and Drama. You know, nowadays it is so hard to find true appreciators of art. The uncultured oinkers we sometimes meet along the way, you know, almost make some artists and performers give up – not me though. I consider that… enticing. But of course, thanks to you I do not have to deal with these types.”

Katya is laughing, but not with her eyes, when the principal thanks her. “I believe I must go now. Thanks for having me.” She shakes hands with the man and leaves, glancing at Trixie very briefly before she slams the door behind her and then you can only hear the clicking of heels and some muffled Russian down the hall.  
…

“Hey, Trixie” someone screams behind her as she tries to fit a box of old costumes inside of her trunk. She slams it down and just by the stench of cigarettes, she can already tell it’s Katya. 

“Oh, hi there”, she projects; in the least miserable voice she can manage to do so. Today’s been a bad day and she’s already gonna have to spend a whole year alongside that hot mess of a woman. She should be able to get a day off. “I don’t think you’re supposed to smoke on school grounds and, you know, the parking lot still counts”. Her not trying to sound bitchy is coming off even bitchier, but, just this one time, she doesn’t really care for it.

“Well that moron wasn’t supposed to take away my art exhibition so I’m just trying to get even. God, how does he even get away with shit like this? Alverton High is proud to be an Arts and Theatre supporter”, Katya mimics, crossing her eyes. “Bullshit! How can you not say anything at all about this? You’ve been here forever, why didn’t you stand up to him?” At this point, she’s screaming and Trixie is shrinking like a turtle hiding back into its shell.

She takes a deep breath and stretches out. “I’m right in front of you, you don’t have to shout” Trixie lets out fast, in a big exhale. Katya looks shocked because she would have never seen it coming. She then clears her throat, realizing that she may have crossed the line a little bit. “I didn’t stand up to him because, well, I didn’t want to question his authority. I am a little upset, yes, but…”

“A little upset? Who are you, Barbie in Dreamland? Trixie no, I saw you in that room and the look you had on your face was not the look of someone who’s a little upset! You’re furious, you’re just as mad as I am! You know what this all means and you know that no one has the right to take it away from those kids!”

“Yes, I know that, but what can we do? Nothing! A decision has been made and now we have to live with it”, she answers, in the calmest way she manages to. That’s a lot less calm than it might sound like. 

“No, we don’t!” Katya fires back in disbelief. She knows, she sees, that Trixie is not taking it well she doesn’t get why she won’t just own up to it. “Do you know what it’s gonna be like meeting my students tomorrow and let them know that the one thing they are excited about all year is not going to happen? It’s like canceling Christmas! And you are very aware of how important it is for them to feel validated, this is just the same as telling them we’re sorry but everything you do actually sucks. We know it’s not true, but they won’t get it. Do you think it’s alright for some kids’ talents and abilities be dictated by some fucking budget-deal-thing? Well because I don’t!”

Katya doesn’t notice it, but she been inching closer and closer to Trixie at every word she said. Right now, the Drama teacher has her back completely glued to the car and the stench of smoke permanently stuck in her nose. She’s sweating a little bit, not knowing how to react.

When Ian gets this close to her during an argument it’s not usually a good sign, and she’s twitching at the thought of it. She tends to control her temper around him because she knows he will tell her it’s not worth it and it’ll go away soon, but sometimes things do get heated. Like the one time Trixie dropped a plate and let it break, or the time she left a cake in the oven way too long, or the time she bought the wrong shaving cream for him. He gets very mad over the small things, like how he puts so much effort into their relationship and she doesn’t even pay attention when he tells her what fucking brand of shaving cream to buy, and she feels awful because he is always right in the end. Right now, she can tell Katya is mad, but she knows it’s not at her and that’s exactly what’s making her stay and listen.

“Football is getting the money because they’ve been doing pretty well at games and tournaments, they’ve been attracting people to the school and they’re making a name for themselves – we know that and I’m not discrediting them, but I am pissed at how much he’s underestimating me and you when he considers us a “luxury”. Well, guess the fuck what, the star player of his precious little football team, Stanley Marcus, is a human ball of anxiety mixed with ADHD and if it weren’t for my classes to help center and focus that kid he’d be having panic attacks in the locker rooms before every practice. Art classes are important for him, they’re an outlet.” Katya sighs and steps back, resting against the car parked next to Trixie’s orange SUV. Trixie is still not moving or breathing very well. 

“They’re betting on their best, okay let them do it.” Katya continues. “And what can we do about it? We can become better. We will become better. Do you see where I’m standing Barbie?” Trixie gulps. “I’m standing in line ready to raise some hell with those kids and I’m taking you with me whether you like it or not because I’m tired of condescending bastards taking my work for granted”, she breathes out, mentally exhausted and in need of another cigarette already.

Trixie doesn’t think for a second. Her brain freezes and she does something she would not have done had her brain been working. “Here, put your number on my phone and I’ll give you mine. Text me later about tomorrow”, she says and doesn’t even blink. There’s a voice inside her head yelling at her because she’s lost her goddamn mind, and the second she snaps out of it, she can only think that she’s doing it for the kids – not only hers but Katya’s too. 

God, Katya. What the hell kind of a woman even is that? She had only talked to Trixie approximately three times before she decided it was appropriate to throw a fucking tantrum like that? That’s too much. She wears her heart on her sleeve at all times and this is not the unstable kind of person she’d want to deal with but, at the same time, she knows she’s not going anywhere. She could, it would be the easy road out of this mess of a project but the thought doesn’t even cross her mind. Trixie cannot wrap her head around how intense Katya is, she’s annoying and insulting and still, there is she, standing right in front of her and smiling like she’s not holding back to avoid strangling this twisted, wicked, Russian.

“Ok, here you are. I should probably go now anyway, but” she holds her phone close to her face and shakes it a little, “I guess we’ll talk later. See you tomorrow, Barbie”, and just like that she is gone, walking back to her tiny, rusty car, all the way across the parking lot. The sky looks like it is about to rain. Trixie sighs as she sits down in her own car and rests her hands on the wheel, letting out a deep sigh, heart pounding and her right eye twitching. She drives home in silence and when she arrives she doesn’t call her fiancé or make dinner, but instead, she sits at the table and drinks an entire bottle of wine while thinking about the feeling in her stomach that does not have a name yet. 

Trixie Mattel is a good girl – the very type that doesn’t drink or smoke or cuss. The same type that pretends to be someone else and lies their whole life away.


	2. part 1 - a cactus and a lily find a common pot to grow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! thank you for the kind comments and here's chapter 2! hope you like it <3

As weird as it might sound, Katya is a morning person.

She wakes up at 5 o’clock sharp every morning, has a smoke in the balcony and makes herself some breakfast. Today she’s not exactly in a good mood if you consider what she’s had to deal with yesterday, but she decides to make pancakes anyway. It’s an ancient Russian proverb that “if everything is going to shit, just make some pancakes and it shall be fine”. It does sound prettier in Russian. She also thinks of her roommate, Adore (no, that’s not her real name), who came home at five and worked hard all night long. Anyone who works at night deserves to wake up to pancakes, so she leaves some in the fridge along with a post-it note that says “made with love, care and cocaine because we are out of flour” with a little heart under it. She hops into the shower at seven, doesn’t wash her hair, and fifteen minutes later she’s struggling to put her tights on. By seven thirty she is 10 miles above the speed limit with one hand on the wheel and trying to apply her lipstick with the other, but she makes it to school just in time – breaking about 15 traffic laws on her way there.

Katya always thinks that walking into school is like a breath of fresh air and she breathes in deep every time. She hasn’t lived a life that allowed her to take many deep breaths, and since she moved to Alverton, Massachusetts she’s been taking in all the air she can. She loves every little thing about this tiny, Christian and bigoted town, from Alverton High to Dame of the Night Gentlemen’s Club, which is right around the corner from her place. Those are, by the way, the two places she spends most of her time at.  
Yesterday, after Principal Charles gave her and Trixie the news that they will be working together this semester, Katya freaked the fuck out. Not only did she call her boss an uncultured swine but she also assaulted her “project partner” verbally and, judging by her facial expressions, there has been some psychological damage as well. She could not breathe or think straight, she just hopped into her car and drove to the strip club, where she knows the girls will always meet her with sympathetic smiles and some kind words to protect her from the big, bad world. These words tend to vary between cunt, bitch, fuck, damn, shit and ass. Feels just like home.

The Dame of the Night is Katya’s go-to place for bad days, it’s almost a ritual. Not many people are lucky enough to leave prostitution behind, and even fewer people are fortunate enough to have such a non-traumatizing experience with their time in sex work, which happens to be her situation. When she arrived in Boston five years ago and could barely say a word of English, the first person to take her in and help her get a grip on life was a fat hooker called Ginger. But misfortunes happen and there’s nothing you can do about the fucked up shit that may come to you in life, especially when the fucked up shit is your best friend overdosing at a cheap motel right outside the city.

After losing Ginger, she moved to Alverton because she wanted to get away. She thought that maybe if she hid well enough, whatever was responsible for the passing of her dearest friend would never find her again. There she met Bianca, an old acquaintance of Ginger, and also the owner of the club. “Clown pimp”, the nickname that was given to her by the girls, is tough and mean, but deep inside - very deep - she is a good person. She took Katya under her wing just like a mother would.

“Listen up, bitch, I’m not gonna say this again”, she had whispered while wiping away the tears from Katya’s cheek. She had a tendency to cry whenever she spent too long with Bianca, I mean, everybody does, but her reasons were different. “I’m giving you this job but that does not mean you get to be here forever. You’re gonna get your money, you’re gonna get an education and you’re gonna find something better to do. There is something better for you out there, bitch, you best believe me.” And that’s what she did. She worked hard, saved up and took online classes at the Massachusetts College of Art and Design, graduated with honors and made all the girls around her proud. The day she left the Dame was the day she first saw Bianca cry, but if you ask her she’ll just tell you to fuck off.

Even then, she couldn’t let go of the club. Those girls were her best friends, and, besides that, she didn’t wanna move out and leave Adore, the bartender, all alone in their tiny shared apartment. It had been there where her life started to change for the better and she if she’s proud of where she’s standing right now, it’s thanks to everything that happened during her first years in Alverton.

Now she has a “real job”, a real salary and a real megaphone in her hand because when you teach high school aged teenagers you have to be ready for absolutely everything. Today, her and Trixie have arranged with the students to meet them in the auditorium, where they’re gonna break the news and explain the grading for the term. They agreed to keep it a short class, just so they can get the information through and also so they don’t have to be with each other for long. She had also text-yelled at Trixie for always being so put together, and told her to loosen up a bit. Her reply was “I am very loose!” and then, two minutes later, "That's not what I meant" like she guessed Katya was laughing at her previous text. She could almost picture it: Trixie's round cheeks becoming bright red as she realizes the innuendo and her pretty manicured hands reaching quickly back to her phone trying to fix her mistake. She then wondered what would the Barbie doll be doing at the time and figured she was probably baking a pie wearing an apron and one of those dresses from the fifties, silk stockings underneath and all, one of those that reaches just above the knee. She bets the stockings were pink. And then it was her turn to become red and she just kept on washing her dishes.

The kids start to arrive at the auditorium talking and laughing and making comments they think are muffled about the students from the other class and even a joke or two about Katya's mismatched earrings. They sit down on the chairs in front of the stage where both women are already sat and anyone can smell the curiosity in the air. When everyone is settled, the teachers try to wait until they quiet down but that never comes and a certain petty blonde gets nervous.

“May we have your attention please?” Trixie claps and smiles while reciting, a little louder than she usually speaks. “Excuse me, would please be silent for a moment?”

God, she is insistent, Katya thinks as she pulls the megaphone from behind her back. She doesn’t know how Trixie manages the Drama kids in class, but talking like that will only give the Art students another reason to laugh at her besides the ongoing jokes about her stealing all of Barbie’s clothes. It is time, she decides, to go _full Russian_.

“ _Хорошо, вы, девственники, время, чтобы соединить ваше дерьмо_!”, she shouts onto the megaphone and the room goes quiet. How to make two sets of eleventh graders shut the fuck up in ten words or less, by Katya Zamolodchikova. If Katya were to ever write a book, this would be the title. The Drama students seem shocked, while the Art ones look slightly annoyed, and you can just tell it’s not their first time at the rodeo.

“Where did you even get that from? Was it here the whole time?” Trixie whispers to her, still smiling, but Katya could smell her effort to keep a friendly face from miles.

“Well a thank you would have been enough”, Katya replies, and Trixie doesn’t acknowledge it, turning to the students and smiling once again. Now that's one loose person right there, she thinks. What a moody blonde!

“Now, if we may have your attention please, Ms. Zamolodchikova and I know you are very curious to find out why we’ve called you here today. It has come as a surprise to us and it might come to you too, but it's a good surprise!" Trixie almost screeches. The students look bored and confused, Katya is thinking about pink stockings. "Anyway, there have been some changes in this year’s calendar and unfortunately, our annual art exhibition will not be continued this year."

"And why is that?" Laila, an Art kid asks. This is one of Katya's favorite students, she's always late and never delivers anything on time but her art is very precious and poetic, and very honest as well. She also likes the girl's purple hair, even though it's technically against the rules. Especially because it's against the rules.

"There have been some budget cuts and, unfortunately, the Arts department didn't get through" Trixie explains with a sorry smile.

Laila looks at Katya. "Did they give all our money to football again?", she asks, without a hint of emotion or surprise in her voice.

"Yes, they did" Katya answers with the megaphone and the kids start protesting, moaning and complaining about it. "Hold up before we start with that, yes? Our money went to football again, I know this happened last year too, but we still managed to make our Exhibition happen because we worked hard for it, right?"

"Yes," they answer in unison.

"Well this year, we are being given another kind of opportunity. We get to work as conjoined classes for this year's Spring Musical!"

First, there is silence. Then, Trixie asks: "Isn't it exciting?" And now both the Art and the Drama classes are protesting, moaning and complaining.

“Are you serious?” Another one of Katya's students asks, a little louder than everyone else. He is wearing an ugly hat, and she knows he's got a collection of those. Before Trixie gets to answer, Katya rushes in, still clinging to the megaphone.

“Baxter! Mann…” before she continues, Trixie elbows her in the ribs lightly – or at least Katya assumes she meant to do it lightly even though she still feels the ache – and raises her eyebrows. “Oh, megaphone, sorry”, she says and turns it off, placing it by her side on the stage. She then frowns again. “Baxter! Manner up! Ms. Mattel was very kind to accept us into her project and we should all thank her for that. I know you guys aren’t liking this very much, but you gotta get used to the idea or it’s just gonna become a living hell for everybody involved. Now, please, if anyone else here is unhappy about this change, suck it up, we’ll discuss it later on. This is, whether we like it or not, a great opportunity for us to work on art beyond canvases, alright?"

“Do you actually talk to your students like that? Jesus”, Trixie whispers, exasperated, her cheeks had become just a little bit pinker than the shade of blush she has on. Katya sometimes forgets that she is a stuck up madam who doesn't know actual people speak in real life since everything she says sounds like a line from a cheesy 80's sitcom. A funny one, though.

“Actually my name’s Katya, not that you’d mind it” she whispers back, with a cynical smile on her face. Trixie drops the smile and turns back to the students, clapping one more time to get their attention over the loud talk. It's funny how she thinks she's so good at looking happy all the time because that doesn't work on Katya. She sees every faculty of Trixie's brain get annoyed at her and she's fine with it, especially because the Barbie doll thinks she has no idea she's mad, but it's so easy to tell. It amuses her and she might or might not think the Drama teacher looks adorable when her face matches the pink of her outfit.

“Okay, guys, listen up!” Trixie belts. The room goes quiet once again. “We had previously arranged that for this year’s musical we’d be performing Grease, am I correct? Well, since we believe in democracy, I must ask: does everyone agree with this?"

The students murmur a little but nobody disagrees. "Yes? Perfect.” She continues. Katya frowns but doesn't say anything. Grease? Hell no. They're gonna have to do better than this if they want to get their money and dignity back. “Now, anybody, Drama or Art student, who wishes to perform on stage can come over and sign their names on the audition list while those of you who prefer to engage in off-stage activities can sign their names to the preferred group, you can also find these lists on the desk in front of the stage.”

“Now, slowly”, Katya says with the megaphone again. Trixie gives her a death stare and she shrugs. “SLOWLY make your way to the stage and, after you’ve signed, you’re free to go. We meet here again tomorrow at four and the auditions take place on Saturday at eight o’clock in the morning, come prepared with a song from the play.”

"And concerning your grades, Ms. Zamolodchikova and I have agreed that this project will be worth 60% of your grade this year," Trixie says. "We hope this encourages you all to participate in any way you'd like." Actually, Katya had decided that on her own, she knew her students would never participate willingly, so she managed to find a good incentive. Trixie had told her they shouldn't pressure them because according to her, they'll do it as an obligation and not as something they truly enjoy. Well, Barbie, guess what: everything these kids do at school is an obligation, at least this is the one they will complain less about.

"This is it for today guys, we'll stay here to clarify any doubts until the bell rings", Katya announces and then turns the megaphone off and stares at Trixie. “Grease? No fucking wonder they want to take Drama down” she says, and waits for a reaction. The other teacher, who is clearly offended, gasps for air.

“What do you mean? Grease is a classic!” She defends. Katya rolls her eyes and holds back all of the fucks trying to come out of her mouth.

“Yes, the most mediocre classic out there! Why are you playing safe? Don’t you think these kids can go all the way Broadway level?” She fires back, a little louder, but not too loud because she doesn’t want the students to hear.

"Don't raise your voice to me!" Trixie whispers, and now she's not even trying to keep her face calm anymore and Katya guessed they are arguing for real. "I don't get how come you can tell me to loosen up my act and now you're complaining that I'm not taking this seriously enough? Please explain it to me, I can't quite figure this on my own." She's getting aggressive and that little voice in Katya's head is very glad to be pushing these buttons.

Oh, she knows she annoys Trixie but she has her reasons. One of them is that Trixie is a fake snob who obviously doesn't like her and it's out there for everyone to see, even if unprovoked. From day one, the Drama teacher has treated her like she is the scum of the Earth and Katya's been through too much to take shit from a little plastic blonde with a nose job who thinks she's Miss America and never had to face anything. She is annoyed at how easy Trixie has it, yes, but she's angry at the idea of the other teacher not liking her, just because. I mean, damn, she's very fucking likable.

Another reason is that she loves to know she's got Trixie in her hands, and no one else can make the plastic blonde feel a wider range of emotions in so little time. The best part is that she doesn't even have to say anything, while Trixie is oblivious and irritated. No one else can make that girl drop a smile or sound like anything less than a Disney princess, only her - literally, no one else can ever get on her bad side! Call her manipulative, call her sick and twisted, but nothing makes Katya as satisfied as knowing she can hold that bitch in the palm of her hand. And what a bitch that is.

“Everybody knows Grease, everybody’s done Grease – God, I’ve done Grease in high school and I’ve only ever moved here five years ago! Nothing even reaches Russia and it’s already old news there! People are bored of Grease! And when I tell you to loosen up I mean you're always so stiff, you not only look like a Barbie doll but you also act like one." Katya exhales. "I don't know why you act like this but I know that we have 65 beasts to tame up here and if you don't get yourself together and start acting like a real person they are gonna eat you alive."

Trixie is now far past pink, she's as red as the communist flag. It reminds Katya of her previous thought about pink stockings and now she also imagines red ones. Her sharp exhale illustrates the dark places her imagination is taking her.

Trixie shifts in her seat, clenching her jaw tightly. The Russian sees her hands shake a little bit but thinks is just nerves, just as the Drama teacher says “Well, I’m right by your side there is no need to be that loud”, and stutters a little. Oh, someone doesn't like being yelled at, boo-hoo. Suck it up, buttercup. She takes a deep breath and looks at Katya again. “What do you suggest, then, if not Grease?”

Before she can answer, the bell rings and she has to run to her next class. “Okay, tonight we’re having dinner at my place and we can discuss the matters so we have it down for tomorrow’s class, is seven good for you? Well, I hope so, but I gotta go now.” Katya flops off the stage and lands gracefully on her stilettos, running outside with a megaphone on her hand. She rushes to the teacher’s lounge where she still has to get her materials for her next class, and on her way she wonders why on Earth did she decide not to get to school only ten minutes earlier so she could have set her classroom up prior to her students arriving and seeing the hot mess she is. Unexpectedly, her phone beeps and takes her head out of those anxious thoughts.

**From: Barbie**  
**I’m a vegetarian.**

Katya doesn’t realize it, but she smiles at the screen for a little while, feeling like that's a small victory. What she does realize is that she needs to stop thinking about those pink stocking on a pair of size 14 thighs before it's too late. 


	3. Part 1 - a cactus and a lily find a common pot to grow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****IMPORTANT****  
> TW: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES DESCRIPTIONS OF ABUSE, SUCH AS PHYSICAL AND EMOTIONAL VIOLENCE AS WELL AS BODYSHAMING. 
> 
> Hey guys! This chapter is a bit longer than the others since it's the end of the first part of the series, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! I'm aware that a certain character's behavior might unsettle you and I'm sorry, but that does NOT necessarily represent me (you'll see what I'm talking about lol). If there's any trigger warning you'd like me to add, please let me know, we want it angsty but it's still a safe space :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading and thanks for your patience!

Trixie is, generally speaking, a very positive person, a true optimist. She likes to write inspiring quotes on the board for her classes, she prays every night before bed and she genuinely believes that the world could be a better place if we all tried a little harder. And, most importantly, she has always believed in a little magic.

She believes that every human being on Earth has a little charm in them, like a casual superpower. For instance, take Janice, this athlete who was her roommate in college and never twisted her ankles. She did track since she was a small child and she had never injured herself, not even that one time, during a race back in their junior year, when she tripped and landed sprawling about five feet away and even lost her shoe - she pulled it back on and kept running. Or Mrs. Monsoon, the History teacher. The coffee she makes is better than anyone else’s, even if all she does is push a button, it tastes like heaven and keeps everyone alert the whole day. The examples are countless, from nail polish that never chips to people who always see the prettiest butterflies, Trixie stands by this theory of hers and refuses to let anyone discredit it, including Mr. Right, also known as her fiancé, Ian.

He’s skeptical, a serious businessman who doesn’t "have any time for this bullshit”. She never told him that, but her heart broke a little bit when he said that after she had spilled out her thoughts on casual everyday magic, bright eyed and all. He told her it was silly and she shouldn’t be wasting time thinking about this crap. That was their first real couple argument and it ended with a kiss and a smile. Trixie wishes their other fights would end like that one did, but when she looks at it now it just seems like a different reality they were living on back then. She misses that. Still, her serious businessman of a fiancé also has his own invisible skill and that is he never makes a mistake when he’s typing, not ever. He doesn’t even have to look at the keyboard, he just types away and it always comes out perfect. This man hasn’t made a typo in his whole entire life, which is, I know, hard to believe, but also seriously compromising if we go back to that time he wrote he’d duck Trixie out of her mind. He had actually prepared some roasted duck with oranges for dinner that night, so in the end, it did make sense, but you never know.

A lot of these little superpowers go unnoticed, if we give it a thought, and this is why they’re so special. Who knows if your superpower is, for example, never having stepped on a ladybug accidentally, or always taking the line that moves faster? Trixie is, in fact, particularly proud of her own tiny skill: she always arrives right on time - seriously, her timing is perfect. Her flights never delay, rush hour traffic doesn’t affect her, she doesn’t oversleep and she is always closer to her destination than she thinks she is. She’s not really one to brag, except when it comes to this - it makes her happy to think that no external condition will ever affect her award-winning punctuality and she makes sure to let everybody know that in every possible situation. 

But then, of course, she ought to have known better, because now it’s twenty past seven and she’s late. For the first time in her 27 years of existence, Trixie Mattel is late and yes, it is Katya’s fault. I mean, it should be. Or maybe it isn’t but this point is just arguable anyway, ok? 

She is cursing the name of that Russian nutcase while still wearing her pink and silky ruffled robe, tapping her foot impatiently, and honestly, it’s almost comedic. What’s happening is that she decided to prepare some dinner for Ian because he always spends the night at her place on Tuesdays and Fridays, and he doesn’t really appreciate her going out on her own, so she thought the dinner would be a treat to him.  Maybe he wouldn’t be too upset.

But then, of course, something had to go wrong because she just can’t have a 9 to 5 bad day, it needs to be a full horrible day, from midnight to midnight. The food was completely tasteless because she forgot the salt, so she had to throw everything away and start over, from scratch. She is an amazing baker and an awful cook, go figure. 

Now, you ask, couldn’t she just have texted Ian that he’d have to add some seasoning to his food? No, of course not. Her man works hard all day and he’s not even gonna get to see her today until nine or ten o’clock when she comes back from her meeting with the devil’s child, Katya. He deserves a treat for being such an amazing fiancé and a hard working man. That and the fact that he likes his food well seasoned.

The first time she forgot to season his food, he had had an extra hard day at the office. 

“Trixie, you’re such a goddamn airhead. That or you just don’t care about me. I’ve had a terrible day and I’m tired, but you invited me to come here so of course I did, I wouldn’t let you down” he said after he’d spit out the pasta. “But apparently all the effort I made to get here during rush hour after, again, a very bad day, means nothing to you. Why do I insist on this? I’d do anything for you and you can’t even season some fucking pasta sauce.”

“Ian, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” she started but he slammed his fists on the dinner table and she gasped for air. At this point, her eyes were already watering. She didn’t get it. It was just some pasta. They could have laughed it off and ordered some pizza. This didn’t have to be happening. 

“Of course you didn’t! Do you ever realize anything?” He stood up and walked over to her. “I don’t have to keep up with you, a careless girlfriend who obviously doesn’t care about me. But I do because I love you, and I don’t think anyone else can love you like I do, but you’re killing me, I…”

“Ian don’t say that, I’m sorry...” she said, and then it happened. 

He yelled “Bitch, don’t interrupt me if I’m not done talking” and that’s when a sharp, loud slap struck her face. Trixie was in complete and utter shock as she raised her own hand to her cheek, which was aching, and she found a small cut from where his ring had caught her. She looked at him and he breathed heavily back to her. 

“Trixie, baby, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to… I lost control, I… That wasn’t me. I would never do that to you” he said, and he looked so sorry. 

“Well, you just did”, Trixie breathed out, and she sounded a lot calmer than she felt. “Ian, leave.” He reached his hand out to her and she stood up quickly. “Don’t touch me, don’t come near me ever again,  I don’t want to look at your face. Leave.” She had never used this tone before.

“Okay, I understand. I’m so sorry. I swear I don’t know what came over me I just… Please forgive me” he begged and cried.

“Leave, Ian” she repeated. And he left. In the next morning, she found flowers and a card at her door, along with 37 missed calls and around 52 texts of apologies. She ignored him for a few days until he showed up drunk at her door threatening to kill himself if she didn’t take him back. And she did. And that wasn’t the last time.

But that was, you know, a bad phase for him. He doesn’t do things like that anymore, he’s a good man, he’s a caring boyfriend and they’re getting married next June. Trixie has nothing to complain about. She just likes to avoid, you know, bad situations. And of course, she feels very safe and comfortable. All the time. She totally doesn’t have nightmares about her future husband. At all.

The only thing she can complain about right now? Katya. 

Katya and her messy little life interfering in Trixie’s plans. God, she hates last minute planning. Every detail of her life needs to be programmed beforehand, and by “every detail” she also means outfits. So, when that geek told her to come over, she saw her whole entire life flash before her eyes and it looked a lot like the walk in closet where she is standing right now: lots of pinks and whites, not enough patience. How can she just come up with an outfit? Oh, right, she can’t, which is a better excuse for being late than “I had to remake my fiancé's dinner because I’m scared he might hit me again.”

Anyway, the problem in front of her right now is that she is a grown woman who does not own a pair of jeans and is in desperate need of a skirt that matches her creamy white top. She has already picked out every single one inside of her closet and she is waving bye bye to her outfit plans for next week already since nearly all of the pieces of fabric that she owns are scattered across the floor, rejected, and she is about to cry. God, when did she decide she didn’t need jeans? Everybody needs a pair of jeans, she realizes now. She regrets judging people who wear denim often. She can also taste her heartbeat in her throat and her head falls into her hands with a deep sigh. She has nothing to wear and she’s twenty minutes late, today has been an absolute nightmare and she is ready to give up.

That’s when she lifts her head up and sees just a glance of pastel pink fabric hiding behind some old summer clothes from a few years ago. Her heart slows down and she swears she can almost smile. That’s the one.  

See, Trixie has a huge butt and very chunky thighs. She’s scared of wearing tighter skirts because she thinks her thighs might actually rip them apart. She hates the lower half of her body, and by that she means anything under her neck. Her breasts give her back aches, but her parents and Ian never allowed her to get them reduced because “God made her like this and now she has to learn how to live with that”, it’s almost like a punishment. Her stomach has more rolls than a Shar-pei dog and her butt is large, but flat, and her thighs always flop down and spread when she sits - it’s so awful she insists on teaching all of her classes standing up because if anyone saw her sitting down they might probably throw up.

Ian told her she should take better care of her body, or else she’s just going to look lazy, which is definitely not true. She goes to the gym and she jogs and she does pretty advanced yoga, only her fat doesn’t get the memo and will absolutely not go the fuck away. 

Her fiancé’s very sweet and he loves her very much and he’s very passionate, but he pays a lot of attention to detail and he never lets something go unsaid. She knows that the comments he makes about her body come from his concern for her health and well-being, but she hates it. She feels like he’s just worried he’s not going to have a pretty girlfriend and that absolutely not true, Trixie is amazing at doing her hair and makeup and she hides her thighs under flowy dresses and skirts every day. She would never embarrass him on purpose with her uncontrollable fat butt and thighs; he’d be silly to think that. She tries very hard to look pretty for him.

Anyway, that skirt is one of her favorites, even though she never wears it. She bought it that one time when they were spending the summer in Spain, along with her parents. She put it on for dinner on the same night she had bought it, and Ian whispered in her ear, as her parents tried to get a waiter: “Trixie, baby… Are you sure this is the right size for you? Can you even move your legs in it? Looks very tight. Sorry, it’s just a bit too much, you know what I mean? Well, actually, it’s a bit too little. If only you had smaller legs…” When the waiter came, she ordered a salad and drank some water while her family feasted on some delicious looking mariscada and wine. 

She never really wore it after that, but insisted on keeping it because you never really know when it might come in handy. And now she’s glad because nothing else looked good on her, so that’s what she’ll have on this evening, and she’s trying super hard not to be happy about it. She doesn’t look at her hips in the mirror while she’s touching up her already excessive blush and she doesn’t think about it being too tight while she steps into her white pumps, and she really doesn’t know it, but her ass does look amazing in that skirt. 

…

 

When is it the right time to give up and surrender? According to Trixie, it’s 7:50 p.m., when she’s standing in front of Katya’s door ready to knock, after she walked across the city in the shoes she hadn’t broken in yet because her car decided not to work. It’s been a long day and walking for half an hour in five-inch heels into the sketchy side of town has not been her favorite part of it. If this day ever ends, God, make sure to add 300 more days for me in Heaven, Trixie thinks, because you’ve been giving me some unnecessary hell down here, capisce? 

She knocks and holds tight to her white leather purse, barely managing to keep her heavy folder from falling from under her arm. Katya lives in a two story building that seems to be falling apart little by little. She’s also pretty sure her neighbors are drug dealers but she’s not going to say anything about it, you never know what’s gonna get you in trouble right? She saw nothing, she heard nothing, she wasn’t even there! Oh, she wishes she wasn’t there. The door creaks open and on the other side, there is a girl in a blue wig wearing nothing but a silk kimono over lacy black underwear and thigh high boots. And the thing hanging inside her panties is definitely a dick. Oh, God. Oh, my God. What is happening? 

“Where’s my fucking pizza, Dave?” she shouts, with a silly smile on her face. Then she (she?) furrows her brow. “Oh, fuck, you’re not Dave.”

“I’m afraid I’m not”, Trixie replies, clutching her purse even tighter. Anyone who says “fuck” more than once at a time can and will pull out a gun to hold against your face. She’s starting to sweat a little.

“And that means you are…?” the blue-haired (blue-wigged?) girl (girl???) continues.Trixie keeps referring to her as a girl even though there’s a very obvious penis right there. She is trying not to stare but it’s very complicated when this… person right in front of her has very male and very visible genitalia but sounds and acts like a woman. That’s a woman right there. But she’s got a dick. This is too much information at once, but it’s fine. Trixie is going to deal with this very maturely and very open mindedly. She is totally not having to stop herself from asking the chick what’s going on down there. She’s cool.

“I’m Trixie, I’m here to see Katya… Do I have the right address?” Totally cool. She’s so cool with this. She’s never been cooler about anything before. So cool.

“Oh, shit, absolutely” the girl giggles a little and Trixie notices the blunt in her hand. Ok, she has a penis, an illegal substance and, for all she knows, a gun hidden somewhere. What is she getting herself into?  “Come in, Katya’s showering, she came home late today, but she’ll be right out” and then she smiles again. Two fucks, one shit. That’s one potty mouth right there. And a prick right down there. Ok, no, Trixie is not cool.

“I’m sorry, you are…?” Trixie insists, smiling out of nervousness. She’s looking for any potential weapons but only finds dirty laundry and empty plates around them. 

“Fuck, I’m such a cunt, sorry, I’m Adore, Katya’s roommate” Such a cunt? Trixie’s not sure. The doorbell rings again and Adore smiles wider. She’s so stoned. “Now it’s Dave with my fucking pizza, fuuuuck, I’m starving. Sit down, help yourself, mind the needles” she says and laughs as she opens the door again and Trixie takes a step to the left. That’s five fucks, one shit, one cunt. They should really think of investing in a swear jar - one day around that chick and you might get just enough cash to pay off your student loans.

“Thank you John and sorry for calling you Dave again” Adore says as she shuts the door. They only have one pizza restaurant in Alverton and they only have one delivery guy, and that’s John. “Well it’s not my fault - he looks like a Dave, right?” she laughs. She sets the pizza down on the coffee table. “Help yourself, Tracy!” Trixie gives the girl one of her Officially Tired Teacher looks and she doesn’t laugh. “Alright, it was just a joke”, Adore says again, almost a whisper.

“No thanks, I’m a vegetarian” she smiles politely as if nothing happened. 

“Party! But what the fuck do you even eat girl?” Adore asks, taking a bite of her pepperoni pizza in between drags from her blunt. They met two minutes ago and now she’s talking like they’re friends, oh my God, no. Trixie is not friends with addicts and people who wear leather boots that go above the knee, let alone those who use “fuck” like it’s punctuation in a sentence. She’s too tired to deal with someone who is high out of their minds but still hyper. This is not how her night should be going, she should be at home watching the third season of Desperate Housewives for the hundredth time while waiting for Ian to get home, she really loves Bree’s storyline with Orson.  

And also, that’s the sixth fuck. This girl needs to get herself together, honestly.

“Well, I love salads. I can eat, like, fifteen different salads in a week”, Trixie answers smiling, trying her best to be nice even though she’s positive the other girl doesn’t care about how nice she is. Adore takes a huge bite off that greasy pizza, seemingly unimpressed. 

“Cool, I’m like that too, but, like, with weed,” she says, smiling, but she means it seriously. Trixie wonders if there are any neurons left or if she’s already burned them all. She looks up at the ceiling and does something she never imagined she’d do in a million years: she begs and prays that Katya shows up soon. If she doesn’t, her own brain cells will commit collective suicide.

And then, as if God heard her prayer, and wanted to apologize for everything he’s been putting her through today, Katya emerges from the hallway wearing a red shirt and some inappropriately tight jeans, with her hair still wet dripping a little down her shoulders. Still, she has bright red lipstick on. Trixie is starting to think this is, really, just the color of her lips. She wonders if, when Katya kisses someone, she leaves red lip marks on them. And then she accidentally pictures her own neck and chest covered in those same marks and it's official, the collective brain cell suicide has already taken place. She shakes her head and blushes. 

“Well someone’s a little late today! How are you Trixie?” she asks with a smile. Well I might need some “how to be late and still be ironic about it” lessons from you, Trixie thinks, Ms. My guest arrived almost an hour late and I was still in the shower. She really wants to say that, but instead, she smiles.

“Tired, if I’m honest. You do have a, uh, lovely apartment though” She says, grinding her teeth. God, she doesn’t even know why she tries. It’s been a long day and, you know what, she’s under no obligation of being kind to people past six o’clock.

“Aw, thanks, Barbie! I see you’ve met Adore. She’s just leaving for work, right, Adore?” Katya asks, raising her eyebrows.

Adore furrows her brow while chewing her pizza. Basically the same thing she’s been doing for the past few minutes. “Not really, I don’t have to be at the club for another two hours”, she replies and Trixie smells Katya’s irritation. The Russian sighs.

“Can you help me check something in the kitchen? Trixie, please sit down and make yourself at home”, she smiles. Trixie sits down and holds a purple sequined cushion to the side of her hip on a very pathetic attempt to hide her thighs. Katya pulls Adore by the hand into the kitchen. Meanwhile, the other blonde just looks around and, honestly, the place is a mess. 

The living room isn’t very big, but it has some nice paintings on the wall and she wonders if that happens to be Katya’s work, and she hopes it isn’t because it’s too good. The first one she notices is a painting of something that looks like a cage, but when she looks again, she realizes it’s shaped like a male abdomen, with broad shoulders and thick bars. Inside, there is some sort of shadow in various shades of pink and purple and blue, almost like a galaxy. She notices another one, on the opposite corner that look like it’s a drawing made of thin black lines but if she looks closer she’ll see it’s actually the same Russian sentence written over and over: Любовь - это когда я смотрю в твои глаза. The lines are continuous and take the form of two lovers (two girl lovers!!! What!!) gazing at each other. Over that, is a splash of red ink, that almost covers the image, and thinly written in white negative space is Я ослеп, но я не перестану смотреть. 

She doesn’t want to admit she thinks it’s wonderful because one, she hates to think that Katya can be that good at something, and two, anyone who is this good at something deserves so much more than a job at a public school. So much more. Two minutes alone with Katya’s work and now she understands her anger and her urge to prove herself to Principal Charles. That lights something inside of Trixie that she can’t quite explain. It does seem to get along with that weird thing in her stomach that comes to life whenever she’s around this other woman. Who is she and how dares her make Trixie feel things she can’t explain?

Then, something else catches Trixie’s attention, even more than Katya’s mesmerizing art. On the top of a short bookshelf placed right in front of the mirror that is where a television would be in any other house, is a picture of her and Adore. And that’s when she truly gasps. Katya’s hair is longer and she doesn’t have any bangs, she looks slightly slimmer but the rest is still the same, but Adore… Hadn’t Trixie gotten a good look at her, she wouldn’t have recognized her. Because it’s a boy. With a mustache, a five o’clock shadow and short brown hair, and even though he looks happy, it just doesn’t feel right. She stares back at the first painting and suddenly it all makes sense. It’s like whatever was inside that boy is now personified into what Adore is, and it floods an entire room with the feeling that everything is in its place. Trixie isn’t so confused anymore, she just needs to settle into the idea, really. She gets it. 

A muffled conversation pulls Trixie from her thoughts and Katya and Adore come back with lemonade, a bowl, and Doritos.

“I gotta go get dressed”, Adore says and rolls her eyes. “I should get to work soon”, she continues and Trixie is under the impression that was not her own choice. She drags her feet down the hall and disappears behind the first door to the left. 

“Alright, I made us some guac, there’s Doritos and… Trixie, are you okay?” Katya asks, setting the tray with the bowl and the bag of tortillas down on the coffee table. That’s when Trixie realizes she has been staring at Katya without blinking or breathing. 

“Sorry, it’s just… I…” clears her throat. “Did you paint those?” She points at the art on the wall. Katya smiles.

“Yes, they’re mine” she blushes. Katya, the eternally unapologetic, outspoken bold bitch blushing right in front of her. “They’re quite old, though.”

Trixie feels like the filter between her brain, her heart, and her mouth is shut off. “It’s beautiful. It really is amazing. You’re so talented, I’m… I get now, you know, why you’re mad at RuPaul. I would be too if I were half as talented as you are and they, you know, neglected me. Creatively speaking. It’s really great Katya”, she blurts out. She doesn’t even care. No, she still doesn’t like Katya very much and the fact that her apartment smells very illegal isn’t helping, but this isn’t personal anymore. Whether this woman is or not Trixie’s least favorite person, she’s still an astonishing artist and she can’t let it go unsaid. When you see art that’s good you tell the artist, it’s no more than your obligation to do so.

Katya looks both shocked and touched. “Trixie, wow. I didn’t even know you could say so many nice words, especially not to me. Thank you” she smiles, still blushing. Her face is almost as red as her lipstick, another image of red lip marks all over her chest and stomach plays inside Trixie's head. They just stare at each other for a second and then Adore barges out of her room, still with the same boots on, but now she is also wearing some dark lipstick, fishnets and a black t shirt that’s twice as big as her. Even then, it barely covers her butt. There is no sign of dick this time. Not that Trixie looked for it. Or she might have. Ok, she did but this is still very foreign to her, she’s taking her time to digest it. On the other hand, if she can hide her thing like that, who knows how well she hides a gun. Trixie does not feel very safe right now, and that penis is the least of her worries.

“Alright girls, I’m off to work,” she says, not as moody anymore. To work? Dressed like that? Okay, no, no judging, she’s already judged this poor girl enough. She might be an addict and say too many curse words but she’s still a person who needs to work and get paid so she can eat more greasy pizza and buy more weed. Leave her alone. “Trixie it was nice to meet you. Byeee” and just like that, she’s gone. Trixie’s never met anyone who put so many question marks in her head. What an intriguing girl, in both a bad and a good way.

“Is that uh, the cage painting, is it about Adore?” Trixie avoids saying “her”, and she whispers even though Adore has already slammed the door behind her.

“Yes, I made it for her when we moved in together”, Katya answers. “I didn’t really know how you were going to react to her, so I didn’t really say anything about it” she shrugs.

“I was, well, puzzled, to be honest,” Trixie answers. This is the first real conversation she’s having with Katya. All of their other interactions had been based on snarky insults or pointed tones. She is very unwilling to admit this is actually nice, even though the subject makes her a teeny tiny bit uncomfortable, but she does. She hopes Katya doesn’t notice.

“Adore is transgender. Adore is not even her real name, it’s her work name - she goes by Danielle now. I’m just used to calling her that” Katya answers, a bit nervous, and Trixie takes that she’s not so used to talking about this too. “Anyway, she’s a bartender at the Dame of the Night, do you know it? Oh, nevermind, I forgot that you’re… you. Still, Adore is going through a process called transitioning, so she’s basically modifying her body so it matches her…” she struggles to find a word.

“Soul?” Trixie suggests. Katya looks up at her and smiles.

“I was gonna say identity, but, you know what? That fits just as well” she responds and Trixie smiles. “The thing is, well, this is obviously a long and expensive process so she’s saving up for her gender reassignment surgery. For now, she takes some hormone pills, that’s what we can afford” she opens the bag of Doritos as she says this.

Is Trixie 100% comfortable and understanding with the idea of a person who is having gender conflicts?  No, she isn’t. This isn’t really her reality, after all, she’s never met anyone like Adore before, she didn’t even know this kind of thing existed but apparently, it does. And she can deal with that. She can just picture her mother saying that this can’t possibly be God’s work but, hey, neither is her breast reduction, so what even is God’s work anyway? Well, here’s what isn’t: being a judgemental bigot. Trixie may not fully understand Adore, but she doesn’t have to. Considering her hyper-religious background, the only thing she needs to do is accept it and let it be if that’s the best she can manage right now. She does hope, though, that one day she won’t be that shocked by this. After all, God  _ has  _ made us all according to his image, and if we aren’t all perfect then neither is God. He just happened to send some people out in the wrong body. Bid deal. Now it’s their turn to do whatever their heart tells them to, so this way they can follow God’s plan for them in a body that feels right and perfect. Who is Trixie to question a person’s own personal journey? No one. She wouldn’t want people to question her journey either. I mean, we go through things that make us wonder why us, but Trixie believes in a bigger picture. There’s always more than we can see. 

Or at least she really hopes there is. 

“You’re an amazing friend, Katya,” Trixie tells her. She has almost forgotten this is a person who she doesn’t like. Almost.

“I’m really not doing anything more than what I should,” she says while serving them some cold lemonade.

“Trust me, Katya, right here? You’re doing way beyond your duty.” 

“I really wish I had another argument to disagree with you, but I don’t” she hands Trixie her glass. It has ice and a tiny pink umbrella on it. “Literally all I’m doing is accepting and suddenly I’m a hero. I hate this” she laughs, but there’s no humor. Then she sighs. “I guess I’m just trying to give Adore what I never had. Support, acceptance, call it what you want” she lets out softly but then widens her eyes, as if she just realizes she’s said something she wasn’t supposed to and Trixie takes another second to catch up. Then she widens her eyes too.

“Oh. Oh. Does that mean that you, uh… Were you…” Trixie tries to use words, but suddenly she can’t anymore. She clears her throat. “Are you like Adore?”

“A woman? We’re also women, Trixie. But no, I mean… A lesbian. I’m a lesbian and it wasn’t very easy to grow up being a girl who also likes girls in Russia. It was, um, pretty hard actually.” She sips her lemonade. Trixie can tell she didn’t mean to say that but now it’s too late so she’s just gonna roll with it. Her stomach sinks a little like it’s trying to tell her something.

“Ok. That’s… news” Trixie says and it does not come off the way she intended it to.

There’s silence. Katya clears her throat. There is an awful lot of throat cleaning in this room. “Does that make you uncomfortable? If it does, I…”

“No”, Trixie answers a little too fast. “That’s fine.” She has butterflies in her stomach. What is going on with her today? She can’t seem to get a grip on what she’s doing or thinking and now that she’s learned this fun fact about Katya her heart is racing and she doesn’t know why. Poor little smart girl who can graduate the University of Massachusetts as a valedictorian but won’t realize she’s a little gay. Sucks to be you. “I’ve just had a lot of new information today, but it’s fine, really.” She smiles sympathetically. 

“I’m sorry” Katya laughs. “I’m just used to be around people who don’t really mind it, I sometimes forget I still live in Alverton and… You just never know” she shrugs again. That’s true. You never know. Or maybe you do but you’re too stubborn to admit it. That’s how life goes I guess. 

 

....

 

They spend the night discussing the musical, their rehearsal plans and Trixie is totally not blasting the word gay inside her brain since Katya unintentionally came out to her earlier. They are discussing the whole to Grease or not to Grease situation and they’re having a bit of an argument there.

“Wicked!” Katya yelled. “It’s a Broadway classic and everybody love it!”

“Yes, it’s a classic that doesn’t have its rights out so it’s technically an illegal classic. Then we’re really gonna lose some dignity when we get shut down for real” Trixie responds while analyzing the list of students who want to try out to be Sandy. She’s wearing her pink cat eye glasses and she saw Katya going a little red when she put them on. “How about West Side Story, if you really hate Grease?”

“Boring. It’s fun, there’s a bunch of dancing but” she puts her lemonade glass down. All of the sheets she’s supposed to read are on her lap. “It’s nothing new, it’s predictable. What about, drumrolls, Moulin Rouge?” she smiles wide.

Trixie looks up from her sheets. “Moulin Rouge is going to get us both fired because one, it’s about a cabaret and two, copyright as well. You do have a thing for copyright don’t you?”

“I might just have a tendency to take what’s not mine”, she replies and Trixie’s cheeks burn. They didn’t have to, though. What. Is. Going. On. Today???

“The Phantom of the Opera,” she says, suddenly. “Classical music, no copyright infringement, complex storyline, beautiful costumes, definitely unexpected and has been done on Broadway. This is my last bet,” she sighs.

Katya smiles. “Sounds good to me. Is this a deal?” 

“I suppose it is” Trixie laughs and holds her glass up to toast with Katya’s. It’s a lemonade toast, but, well, none of them wanted wine so that’s the best you get, really. 

She can’t believe how genuinely happy she is right now, sitting across from Katya on her smelly couch with about 500 sheets of paper flying around them, sugary lemonade and empty bowls of the best guacamole she’s ever eaten. Ask her how she thought this day would have ended, how any of her days would have ended, and she would never have guessed this in a million years. She’s having fun with her lesbian immigrant co worker, who lives with a transgender pot smoker who is also a bartender at a strip club, after having eaten some delicious food and talking about theater and plans for her dearly beloved musical. Time flies when you’re having fun and Trixie hasn’t had this much fun in ages. 

And she also hasn’t been out this late in ages. Crap. Shit. She forgot to call Ian to come and pick her up and now it’s almost eleven on a weekday and she gets very, very anxious. And just like her worst nightmares, there’s a knock on the door. Katya furrows her brows just like she’s wondering who the fuck is knocking on her door at this time, but Trixie already knows who it is. It’s her wakeup call back to reality. 

“Can I help you?” Katya asks with a serious expression.

“Hopefully” he answers. “I’m looking for my fiancée, Trixie. Is she here, by chance?”

Trixie’s heart is pounding, she knows he’s gonna be mad. Katya lets him in with a smile and he looks around, judging and looking for any potential weapons until he sees her on the couch.

“Well, there you are babe!” He smiles and puts his hands in his pockets. “Thank God you left your phone’s GPS on or else I would have thought you’d gone missing!” He laughs a little. Trixie doesn’t.

“Can I get you a drink…” Katya starts, still smiling and being a good host. Trixie isn’t breathing very well.

“Sorry, how rude of me not to introduce myself. Ian Elswood, enchanted.” Katya widens her eyes at the last name, which is, to be fair, usual. The Elswood family owns half of Alverton. The other half is owned by the Mattels. Coincidence, right?

“Nice to meet you, Ian. I’m Katya Zamolodchikova, Trixie and I are working on a school project together. Can I get you a drink?” she offers.

“No, thank you very much, but I think Trixie and I will just leave. Come on babe, get your stuff,” he says and Trixie knows, she just knows that Katya doesn’t hear it but his voice is already telling her she’s in some big trouble. She should have never come here. What was she thinking?

She fumbles to gather her things because her hands are trembling and she’s sweating like a pig. She stands up and then she remembers a little detail.

She’s wearing that skirt. The one skirt he hates, the one skirt he didn’t know she hadn’t thrown away. He looks at her and she knows, she already knows he noticed and she gulps and tries very hard not to cry right then and there.

“Oh, what a nice outfit, darling. I didn’t remember you owned that, I could have sworn you told me you had thrown it away, this old thing” he says smiling, but the vein on his forehead isn’t as good as a liar as he is. Trixie just murmurs some gibberish in response and the room falls silent.

“So, how long have you guys been together?” Katya asks while Trixie struggles to pick up each individual sheet of paper she just dropped again.

“We’re high school sweethearts, actually, and I’ve proposed, I think, almost a year ago now, but we’re finally getting married next June. Summer wedding, you know. And busy schedules” he smiles proudly. 

“That sounds great! Congratulations”, Katya smiles again and she looks genuinely happy. Trixie wants to scream and tell her no, don’t fall for that, he’s not gonna be this charming once it’s just us and he shuts the door at home. 

“Thank you! My family is very traditional when it comes to marriage so we’re having our ceremony the same day my parents and my grandparents did. We even have the same rings papa and nana wore when they were engaged, back in the fifties” he explains, like a speech he’s been preparing for a while, he even lifts his hand so she can see his golden ring. Katya is absolutely enchanted and Trixie doesn’t blame her. Ian always pulls out this adorable nickname thing, which is just a bonus to the dimples and the cologne, you just can’t win. He’s lovely, but only until he’s not anymore.

“Wow! You have matching family rings, this is so sweet! I’ve never seen a guy wear an engagement ring before!” She laughs and so does he. Trixie then puts her purse up on her shoulder and her folder under her arm.

“Katya thank you for having me. Shall we email our class to let them know about the change of plan?” Trixie asks as she walks closer to Ian and her heart is about to escape through her mouth. Ian puts his arm around her shoulder and brings her closer, she has goosebumps all over and it’s not the good kind. She thought she had been scared of Katya’s neighbors and Adore’s imaginary gun, but this goes beyond fear, this is panic and all she does is smile.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, we should just let them know tomorrow during rehearsal” Katya smiles.

“Alright then, we should probably get going. I had a nice evening” she says. Ian tightens his grip around her and she tries very hard this time but she fails, and lets out a little gasp of discomfort. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Katya seems to notice the mood change and moves closer, but when she gets to see how wide Trixie’s eyes are and how pale she looks and how her hands are trembling and her ankles seem like they’re about to give out, Ian turns for them to leave and she can’t see anything anymore. Trixie hates being vulnerable and transparent but this time, just this time, she’s hoping someone is going to see through her and she really hopes it’s Katya.

 

…

 

The next afternoon, Trixie uses her fifteen-minute break to run up to the restroom and fix her makeup. There’s this one on the third floor where no one ever goes, so she rushes over there holding her little makeup bag in her hands and some kind of sadness in her eyes. 

If you look closely, you can almost see the wound. It’s a tiny cut, right under her eye on the cheekbone, like many others she’s had before. Her foundation is starting to wear off because of the heat of August, and also because the school’s ventilation system is awful, it feels almost like a sauna in there. She washes the area around it a little to let it breathe for two minutes while she takes out her brushes and her primer, which she isn’t sure she should be putting on an open cut, as small as it is, but still does because she doesn’t have an excuse. 

She puts some of the product on her finger and slowly set it on her cut, and it stings so bad she lets out a little whimper and some tears escape her eyes. She should have been used to this by now, but deep inside she knows she’ll never be. And this brief little thought makes her eyes water a little more and she cries while looking in the mirror because all that she sees are the words he said to her. Liar, careless, unlovable, fat and it only goes down from there.

Before she lets out her first sob, though, the door bursts open and she turns around to see Katya with a smile on her face heading towards the sinks where she’s standing, but then she freezes when she realizes Trixie’s crying and her eyes go straight to that point on her cheekbone where it’s a little red and irritated and by the look on her face she can tell that Katya knows. 

Trixie then panics, takes her makeup bag and stomps out. She should be glad she didn’t stay to see Katya’s face after she actually realizes what happened because it would break her little pink heart in pieces and smash it. Katya knows now, she thinks, and that’s somehow the scariest thing she could imagine, but also the most comforting, since it fills her with a sense of security, some kind of guarantee. Katya knows. She sighs. And now what?

And now what?

 


	4. Part 2 - I'll leave the light on for a while

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup my people! This one took a while to write, I didn't even have time to get it through my beta reader, so if you find any atrocities let me know and I'll fix that! College has been insane, so I'm very tired but still doing my best to try and post the chapters on time.  
> This chapter is not as eventful as the last one but I promise you guys the next chapters of part two will absolutely make your asshole fall off your butt.  
> And also, I've been swooning over your comments, my constant wish for validation is finally being fulfilled lol. I'm so glad you're liking this story and thank you so much for your lovely comments! If y'all wanna give me some extra love, drop by my tumblr: [http://highonbrunost.tumblr.com/ ](url) (shameless self-promotion, yes)  
> Anyway, here's chapter four! Enjoy!

Katya doesn’t talk to Trixie until the Saturday of the auditions, and that's when she decides she’s had enough of awkward silences and tension between them during the week and chooses to start over with her as if nothing had happened and, truth is, that’s easier said than done. Her foolproof plan includes bringing her colleague a cup of coffee and hoping she will forget whatever happened between Tuesday night and Wednesday afternoon.

What happens is that, while Trixie had been visibly scared of talking to Katya the whole week, Katya had been too  _ angry _ to talk to Trixie. When she thinks about what happened, the only thing that comes to her head is how royally furious she is at the monster, the abuser that Trixie is about to marry, because no human being with a heart and a brain would ever be capable of looking into those sweet blue eyes and doing anything to harm the precious human being they belong to. And yes, Katya knows that she doesn’t even like Trixie very much, but it doesn’t change anything - Ian Elswood is the devil and Katya can’t let Trixie or any other woman in her sight be part of his sick and twisted mind games.

And yes, Katya also knows she likes her fair share of those “sick and twisted mind games”, for example, using every chance she finds to piss Trixie off, but that’s different. When she does that, she’s just messing with her snobby co worker, and she’s pretty sure she wouldn’t cry about that. They have this snarky attitude around each other but that’s really just the way they are, and deep down it’s even a little fun. Now, do you know what is not fun? Having someone hear your voice and suddenly start trembling, dropping things and hyperventilating. That’s what he does to her. He takes Trixie, the pink cloud of perfume and kindness and glitter and turns her into a pale ball of anxiety and fear. 

To be very honest, Katya hadn’t liked Ian from the moment she saw him. He’s got this pretentious vibe, along with the fake smile and the excessive cologne, not to mention the dimples - Katya hates dimples. And she hates Ian. She despises him, she is disgusted by him and whatever it is he’s been putting Trixie through. She’s never considered killing someone before, but now she is blinded by repulse and fury and that’s not even the worst part. 

The worst part is that, by being the disgusting pig that he is to Trixie, it automatically triggers a feeling towards her that Katya wishes she didn’t feel: pity. Katya pities her because she is a victim in this situation but she really wishes she could feel something else because this does not define Trixie. We tend, in fact, to let ourselves be defined and to define others based on their current situation rather than their true selves, and Katya knows that better than anybody. For many years, she was either a hooker, a junkie or a disappointment, depends on who you ask, and she knows now that none of those things define her. But does Trixie know that about herself? That she’s more than what he says she is, that she’s more than what he turned her into?

Katya thinks she doesn’t. And so she is determined to show her that she doesn’t have to be any of that, that she’s actually beautiful and special and kind and that the effort that she puts into her handwriting is more relevant to the world than what he made her think she is. 

This determination and the fact that staying out of trouble has never been her forté anyway have led her to what she likes to call the FoolProof Plan To Make Trixie Dump His Ass 5000, trademark, which consists of a few simple steps that will make Trixie trust Katya enough to tell her about what’s really going on and then let herself be convinced to dump his ass. Actually, it was Adore’s idea - Katya wanted to let her neighbors, who are drug dealers, take care of Ian but her friend didn’t let her. 

step one is: becoming her friend! And what better way to make friends with someone than to let them know you care about them in a non-creepy way, right? So this is why, on her way to school, Katya stopped by Alverton’s Coffee House, the local coffee shop where John, who also happens to be the pizza delivery guy, is the barista. She bought herself and Trixie an espresso each and held them proudly in her hand as she entered the auditorium, where a few students were already gathered and Trixie was testing the sound and the mics with the school janitor, Steve.

“Good morning!” She announces when she steps beside Trixie and the other blonde twitched from the sudden loud presence. “I brought you a nice, hot cup of coffee!”

Trixie seems surprised, and for the first few seconds, she doesn’t realize Katya is actually talking to her. “Oh, thanks, Ms. Zamolodchikova, that’s very sweet of you” she smiles shyly, Katya stuffs her chest with pride because she’s reacting fine to the recently established communication. Then Trixie takes a sip, widens her eyes and covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my God this tastes horrible!” She exclaims after making what looked like a huge effort to swallow that first sip.

Katya blinks slowly. “Well, then I guess I brought you a hot cup of coffee!” Her smile is starting to weaken. 

“It’s not that warm either if I’m honest” Trixie responds, still frowning and looking for a garbage bin. The words going through Katya’s head go along the lines of nope _, nope nopety nope this isn’t working and I’ll have to move back to Russia._

“I brought you a cup of coffee, then” she insists, and in her mind she’s on the edge of a cliff, ready to leap.

“Sorry, but I’m not even sure this is coffee” Trixie disposes of the cup and that’s just the push Katya needed to fall to her death. 

“Cup,” she says, a fake smile plastered on her face, with a charming hint of panic. “I brought you a cup.” She turns around, takes a sip and frowns too - that bitch is right, whatever this is it’s awful and she regrets ever thinking this was a remotely good idea. Abort mission. Abort. Mission. 

“Well, I guess it’s the thought that counts” Trixie opens her pink water bottle and gulps. Katya throws her own coffee away and looks at the cup like the traitor it is. “Everyone is here already, can we get started?” Trixie asks. Katya went from hopeful to defeated in less than two minutes, and, well, that’s a good start for a Saturday morning.

 

…

 

While Trixie seems genuinely interested in the auditions, Katya is actually pretty bored. She already has it down, a student comes in, sings their part of the duet, they either suck or they don’t, then another student comes in, sings their part of the duet… She gets it already, this is almost like a time loop, the same things happen over and over and at this point, she’s given up. And now that she has nothing to do but ignore the main stage, her subconscious decides it’s time to stare at Trixie. 

Looking at this girl and pretending everything is okay is, by far, the hardest thing she’s ever done in her life. She’s angry and she wants to get this over with, make sure she’s safe and happy and she’s willing to do unimaginable things to get that - including nothing at all. But she knows it’s gonna pay off, all this waiting because she and Trixie are not a coincidence.

As a person who’s been through all kinds of misadventures in her life, Katya never lost her hope or perspective of a future, as many people like her do. At some point she just found herself saying “well, I somehow managed to survive for 35 years, so maybe I’m not meant to die yet, I think I’m meant to live”, and that was enough for her to keep going, and to realize that perhaps there’s more. She’s not religious, not at all. She doesn’t hate the idea of a God, but she hates the idea of an old, white man controlling her life (we all know how that goes and it ain’t cute), so consequently she doesn’t fit into the religious spectrum she’s been introduced to in Alverton, where old white men seem to control things way beyond the church. 

What Katya really believes in, though, is fate, as a cosmic phenomenon, as in every living being in this universe has their purpose, nothing is a waste. For all those years she battled her addiction, she felt lost and insignificant and she couldn’t figure out why she was here, or what for. But then, after her brief time in therapy and rehab, which Bianca helped sponsor because “that’s what Ginger would’ve wanted, now shut the fuck up before I change my mind and leave you out here in the road”, she came to the conclusion that we aren’t supposed to know what our purpose is, but we realize it when it’s time. That’s why, when she met young transvestite hooker Adore, she felt this little light burning inside her, and for a while now she’s been dedicating everything she has to her best friend, but when she met Trixie, this light turned into a whole sun.

Okay, I know. “They don’t like each other very much, blah blah blah” yes, I  _ know, _ but from the moment Katya laid her eyes on Trixie for the first time she knew they weren’t a coincidence, whether they’d be soulmates or enemies only time would tell, she thought, but even that got messed up along the way. Still, it makes perfect sense for her that they’d meet like this and insist on being nasty to each other, even though they adore everybody else around them until they are left alone for two minutes with some good ass guacamole and suddenly boom, friendship rising. It feels somehow logical and obvious and it feels like they should dislike each other so that’s why they act the way they do, but once they both realized that they don’t  _ have  _ to, there was something there. 

Katya understands now that maybe her purpose is to find people who feel the same way she did during her bad years and let them know that they’re fine. She met Adore when she still didn’t know how to do her makeup or tuck and didn’t have a home and now there she is, pretty and unclockable and living in the worst “best apartment” ever, but healthy and happy and employed and saving up for her surgeries. Katya watched Adore change and bloom right in front of her, and now she wonders if Trixie will give her the same chance.

“Alright, honey, what’s your name and what role are you auditioning for?” Trixie asks and Katya can tell how hard she’s trying not to sound bored but it’s not working very well.

“Laila McQueen, I’m trying out for Christine” the purple haired girl answers and that rips Katya away from her thoughts. Few things surprise her when it comes to her students, but when she sees her favorite punk nerd standing on stage, dressed entirely in black, Katya’s asshole falls off. Goth little Laila interested in the musical? This is gonna be good.

“Alright, Laila, whenever you’re ready,” Katya says, just like someone would point out the weather. She’s doing a better job and hiding emotions than Trixie, who looks like she’s about to fall asleep. Laila thanks her, clears her throat and nods, so Katya presses play on the radio with the music background.

“In sleep he sang to me” she starts with the perfect tune and clear voice. “In dreams, he came, that voice which calls to me and speaks my name”

Trixie suddenly drops her pen and her mouth falls open. Katya sees it and presses her lips together in a smile, she feels like a proud soccer mom even though she never knew her “daughter” was this talented. This is their girl, she knows it, even though Laila hasn’t even finished her first part of the song.

“Sing once again with me our strange duet” she continues and Katya twitches and leans closer to Trixie, slapping her shoulder and thigh rapidly.

“She’s doing both parts! She is singing both parts!” Katya whispers, but in such an agitated way that seems almost like she’s screaming. “She’s singing two parts of a duet!”

“I know!” Trixie answers, just as amazed. “But please don’t touch me” she continues and Katya backs away from her, blushing from embarrassment. Rotten coffee and excessive touching, that’s it, she’s giving up - but at the moment she can’t really care too much because Laila is  _ killing it _ on stage.

“Trixie, that’s our Christine” Katya continues, smiling like a fool. “No one else can take this part!”

“I know, right? She’s doing great, I had no idea she was this talented!” Trixie exclaims, resting her chin on her hand, trying to watch her better.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Katya asks and leans over the table next to Trixie. “Neither did I” she sighs out, mesmerized.

 

… 

 

Laila takes the part of Christine, but all of the other roles are assigned to Drama students. Trixie takes charge of the actual play rehearses while Katya coordinates the kids who are painting scenery, sewing and doing, basically all of the backstage parts. Most of her own students are in that group, which proves once again that she was right when she said her students would never willingly take part in a play, they hide backstage where they don’t have to face other people. So basically they are divided into Attention Seeking Nerds and Social Anxiety Nerds, which was definitely expected of them. The routine with line reading and stage building stays pretty much the same for a few weeks, and even though they work together, Katya and Trixie haven’t been talking that much. 

Not that they’d have to, really, it’s basically two individual jobs but Katya has been doing her best to catch Trixie’s attention, which might have made her sound ridiculous and slightly dumb at some points but that’s not the matter here. Katya’s not scared of seeming stupid, she’s only terrified of failing at her magnificently well planned FoolProof Plan To Make Trixie Dump His Ass 5000, trademark. And so far, that’s going… uh, not too magnificently well to be honest. 

Let’s be fair: Katya is a woman of many talents. Her art? Breathtaking. Her cooking? Award winning. Her sex? You can’t get enough. Now, being subtle? Eeeeeeh, no, not really. Every day she tries to lure Trixie closer to her, asking questions and making remarks, and to anyone who hears it, it sounds like the bad acting you see on cheap porn. “Your hair looks wonderful today,” she says on a day when Trixie’s hair looked flat and oily because she obviously hadn’t had the time to wash and“I love your outfit” she points out on a day when Trixie is wearing a flowy pink dress with a huge and undeniable coffee stain. Trixie looks offended because, Katya realizes later, it sounds a bit like a bad joke, especially after she added: “You can’t even notice the stain really, it’s almost abstract.” So yeah, as far as she doesn’t have to interact with any other human beings she’s fine.

There are things, though, that she can take and things that she can’t. She can take the embarrassment from realizing she fucked up all of the times she tried to talk to Trixie. She can take Adore smoking too many blunts every day, right in front of her face, even though she’s an ex-addict. She can take the realization that her degree in History of Russian Art has been completely useless in her life. Now, Trixie Mattel, Alverton’s very own life-sized Barbie doll, wearing a leotard is not one of those things. 

When Katya walks into the auditorium, fifteen minutes late on Tuesday morning and sees her (supposed) arch-nemesis wearing a copy of Jamie Lee Curtis’ pink striped leotard from the movie Perfect, with white leggings underneath, the only thing she feels like doing is turning on her heels and either locking herself inside the nearest restroom and hoping no one hears her scream or simply dropping dead right then and there. Instead, she keeps walking toward the stage with a smile on her face and the hope that no one can see her sweat.

“Morning Katya!” Trixie says while stretching, one foot on the stage with her leg completely extended and her breasts touching her thigh. She rises back up and puts her leg back down, only so she lowers her torso and stretches her arms down so that her fingers touch her toes. Her butt looks unbelievable and Katya can almost hear the sound if it getting slapped, then grabbed tight and bitten, licked and slapped again and oh no, God, no. Katya holds her breath for a few seconds until whatever demon that took over her brain for that brief moment goes away and she can come back to being rational and not thinking about Trixie’s ass. And her thighs. In lacy pink stockings and maybe even garters, spread open as she kisses her skin and breathes down on it, teasing the blonde woman and making her moan Katya’s name, holding her hand on the Russian’s blonde hair, and begging her to be eaten out because she’s been a good girl and she deserves it, she’s so wet for you and she can’t take it anymore, please.

Ok, wow, what a great way to fix things, congratulations Katya, you should be in morality jail. “Morning Trixie” she responds, shaking her head in hopes to shake off her thoughts and turning away so she doesn’t have to look at her colleague’s butt. She sips her coffee. “So, what’s with the outfit?”

“We start on dance practice today, so I had to come in, you know, appropriate gear” Trixie answers, breathing a little heavily and Katya doesn’t turn around to see what kind of stretching is going to make her fantasize now. “But that’s only for today”, she continues and Katya breathes out, annoyed at the news, “I’ll give them the choreography and maybe they’ll want to film it, but for the next classes, I’ll just coach them from a distance. I haven’t danced in so long, the last thing I want to do is to make myself look stupid in front of people who are half my age” she laughs. Katya realizes now that Trixie sounds weirdly friendly today.

“No, don’t worry about it, I don’t think anyone as cute as you can ever look stupid” Katya replies, and this time she isn’t trying to kiss Trixie’s ass (lol), she’s just pointing out the reality of this situation. “I’m sure you’re gonna do great, or even  _ perfect _ ” she winks. Trixie covers her mouth.

“I can’t believe you know this too!” She smiles and blushes and Katya almost feels bad for having so many filthy thoughts about such an adorable creature. “Oh, I almost forgot to ask you, have you seen the radio? Or, well, literally any part of our sound system?” 

Katya frowns and then looks around. The speakers are nowhere to be seen, there are no microphones lying around and even their little CD player is missing. “What? Where has everything gone?”

“I don’t know, but I was hoping you would” Trixie sighs. “I walked in here this morning and there was nothing. Do you think we might have been stolen?” 

“No, I…” Katya starts but then, suddenly, a loud, but muffled beat interrupts her. It’s Black Eyed Peas’ Good Feeling that’s blasting out and both women look at each other. At this point, a few students have already arrived, and they look just as confused as their teachers. “Do you think that…”

“Yes, I think that might be coming from our equipment” Trixie cuts her off and starts walking to the door. “Brittany, can you watch the class for two minutes?” Brittany nods and then she gestures Katya to follow her. They leave the auditorium and walk across the school, following the sound. Just as the song is about to end, they reach the doors to the gymnasium and Katya watches Trixie pull them open and her chin drops to what they see.

All of their speakers are there, and so is the CD player, and they’re playing the song that the cheerleaders are performing too, as their cheer coach, Ms. Edwards, the football coach, Mrs. Visage and Principal Charles watch and smile. Mr. Charles notices them at the door, smiles, and waves.

“Girls!” He exclaims excitedly. “Come on in to watch this!”

“We don’t really have the time now, sir,” Trixie says and Katya’s brain goes  _ oh _ . She recognizes the voice and the face and she doesn’t even need to look at it too long to know: Trixie Mattel is royally pissed and at this very moment she is trying to stop herself from strangling someone. This side of Trixie scares Katya, it’s unpredictable and rare and nerve wrecking. Whenever she sees the Barbie doll get mad, she just expects the worse. 

“Oh, what a shame. May I ask why you’d decide to stop by? I imagine you’ve been very busy with the musical… Oh, did nobody tell you about the speakers?” He realizes and pouts. Katya wants to punch him in the face and kick him in the balls. 

“No” she answers. “It came as quite a surprise for us, I mean, it is a musical after all” she manages to fake a smile. Now there are two angry blondes in front of him and only one of them is willing to hold back for the sake of her reputation - the other one doesn’t have a reputation to care for. 

“So sorry for the misunderstanding here! What a mess,” the principal laughs. Neither Katya or Trixie try to look amused. “What happens is that, since our football team has been featuring some major tournaments and championships, we thought our lovely cheer squad needed a lift as well, so we decided to provide them some material to help during practices. As you know, we are a big sports supporter and…”

“Alright, but what about us?” Trixie interrupts. “We are working on a musical, how are we going to do that if we don’t have any sound?” Katya realizes she’s starting to lose it, she’s about to witness Trixie snap and this is not gonna be good, it’s, in fact, the exact opposite of what she needs right now.

“Well, you two are very smart. I’m sure you’ll figure something out” he smiles and crooks his head. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, their routine to Beyoncé’s Single Ladies is not something I want to miss!” He turns around and leaves both teachers standing there like two idiots. Fuck, shit, cunt, bitch, whore. Katya’s head is spinning. He wants them to fail. She doesn’t know why but that’s what she’s getting, RuPaul Charles has been doing everything in his power to make them feel miserable, underappreciated, taken for granted and he doesn’t want them to produce this musical. He wants to get rid of them.

“What the heck,” Trixie says as soon as they close the gymnasium doors, and she looks like she’s about to cry. “Katya, we’re screwed, we’re dead. We’re gonna have to cancel the musical. We’re gonna have to do the walk of shame in front of our students and give them the talk of shame and we’re gonna have failed” she says a little too fast, almost hyperventilating. 

Katya holds Trixie by her shoulders. “No!” She says firmly. “We are not letting that conceited piece of shit get what he wants.”

“But how” She starts again and she’s almost whimpering, “how are we going to go through with this if our provider seems to be going against us?” Trixie, the happy little princess who never lets anyone see her sweat letting Katya see her eyes water. She’s either too desperate or she just trusts her, but the Russian doubts that.

Katya sighs. “I know someone who can help us,” she says and Trixie looks hopeful for a brief second and then hugs her.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and Katya is absolutely wretched. 

  
  



	5. Part 2 - I'll leave the light on for a while

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***IMPORTANT***  
> This chapter contains descriptions of abuse, such as verbal and physical violence.
> 
> When I saw this had 1000 hits I fucking gagged, I can't even count to a thousand! Thanks guys and gals and y'all beyond the binary! Thank you also for all the comments, they make my heart flutter! If you wanna stalk me, [http://highonbrunost.tumblr.com/](url) is the place to go. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it, thanks for being awesome!

Everybody knows that Trixie is a religious person. She grew up in church, sang in the choir, volunteers for the Easter and Christmas events and goes there every Sunday along with Ian and both of their parents. She never complained about having to attend masses or having that cross hung up on her bedroom wall, she liked it, even. She loves God and she feels loved back, she finds on Him the strength she needs to keep going and she knows if He’s been putting her through this it means it’s part of a bigger plan.  
And Trixie prays a lot. As soon as she wakes up she thanks God for another day, before every meal, she thanks Him for the food, before she goes to sleep she thanks Him for all the blessings she had on that day. The only thing she asks of God is that, whenever she sees Ian, that he’ll be in a good mood, and yet, out of all blessings He’s already given her, this one seems to be beyond His power.  
Her prayers are intense and continuous and usually thankful and joyful, every single day. But, and you may ask God Himself, Trixie has never prayed as hard as she’s doing today, and it’s all Katya’s fault.  
See, when she was told that there was someone who could help them, Trixie’s heart filled with joy and at that moment she swears she could kiss Katya. Not literally. Figuratively. Not a literal kiss. Not that she thinks about kissing Katya too much. Not that she thinks about getting kissed by Katya on places that aren’t her mouth. Not that she ended up moaning her name on accident last night as she felt her own soft touch and imagined red lipstick smudged all over her chest and thighs. After all, she’s straight. She likes men. Men with beards and dicks, classic men, typical men, any men. That’s what she likes. Men.  
Well, that’s not the point. The point is that Katya made her feel hopeful after she’d given up, and she couldn’t be more thankful. But then, the moment she saw who is it that is going to help them, she started praying as hard as she could.  
Standing in front of them is Sharon Needles, Alverton High’s music teacher, also known as “that one person with a few satanism related rumors about them”. She wears her platinum blonde hair in a short bob haircut and her lip injections become more obvious with her dark lipstick. Trixie has known her for the longest time, even though they never speak, but they even went to school together, and she hasn’t changed at all: no amount of plastic surgery will take the weirdo out of her.  
God, she remembers it like it was yesterday. Sharon was a skinny little creature, meth addict skinny, who had a tattoo she hid from her parents, a pixie haircut and combat boots, wore big, square glasses but no makeup at all - until she discovered black eyeliner and nail polish. The rumors were so awful, now that she thinks about it. First, it was the drugs, then the satanic cult, but the one that really stuck around was the lesbian rumor. Trixie may or may not have had something to do with that, but Sharon did technically hit on her that day after cheer practice - she wasn’t even a cheerleader, she just sat and watched Trixie and her friends dancing from the bleachers, so yeah, of course Trixie would call her a “total dyke!”  
“Well, well, well, look who’s finally come to visit… What a nice surprise, Katya!” She says and cackles, raising her eyebrows. “And I see you brought a... friend. Now, that didn’t take long, did it?” She sits down and crosses her legs.  
Wait, what tone was that? Why would she even say something like th… Of course! How didn’t she realize before? A high school dyke and a lesbian Russian? Ding ding ding, we have a winner! They have dated, they used to date! Oh, my God, maybe it’s recent? And Sharon is still butthurt over it? Wow, Trixie did get it right though, Sharon is a big, fat lesbo! A big, fat lesbo who thinks her and Katya are dating… Alright, she’s blushing now.  
“Oh, look, she changes color too” Sharon adds, looking like a poisonous snake. She hates Trixie and the Barbie doll gives her every reason to, if she had been put through half the shit Sharon had to handle during high school, she’d be twice as bitter.  
“Katya, what are we doing here?” Trixie whispers smiling, but Katya ignores her.  
“Look, Sharon, I know that we’re not on the best terms right now but…” Katya starts off, but Sharon’s gasp makes her stop.  
“Not on the best terms? Seriously Yekaterina? I had to hear from Adore that you were in rehab because you didn’t have the guts to tell me! You were gone for two weeks before I heard from you again and then you came back and you never looked for me!” She shouts and Katya’s eyes widen.  
“Shhhh!” Katya rushes closer to her. Trixie is still processing the word rehab in her head. “Okay, no, we’re not doing this again. I came here because Trixie and I are desperate and you’re the only one who can help us!”  
“Well, not my circus, not my monkey!” She answers exasperated and Katya looks confused. Trixie has to lean in and whisper “she means this is not her problem.” Katya mouths “oh” and nods then goes from confused to annoyed.  
“You and your fucking idioms, fuck Americans” she whispers under her breath, then inhales deeply. “Sharon, can you just…”  
“No, Katya, I cannot!” She says firmly and Trixie takes a step back. She has too many questions, not enough bravery or will to die to ask them. “I already have to look at you every single day after you broke my heart and tore me to pieces, now I have to help you and your new chick, who also happens not to be on my good side? I think you should leave before this gets ugly.” Oh, so it isn’t ugly yet, Trixie thinks, fearing a little for her safety.  
“No, Sharon, this is professional, not personal!” Katya responds. “Trixie and I have been put, no, not put, but shoved together into this project because they canceled my art exhibition and they almost canceled the musical, but we have very firm reasons to believe that the principal is still trying to get rid of us!”  
“Oh really? I’m moved” Sharon replies, dry, and rolls her eyes. Trixie’s getting some goosebumps. “Haven’t seen that before,” she rolls her eyes.  
“Sharon, listen” Katya plants her hand on the desk forcefully and Trixie is pretty sure hands aren’t supposed to make you twitch when slammed like that, but, hey, she doesn’t really feel like complaining about that. “We know they canceled your concert two years ago and you haven’t had a new one since, you told me that, remember? And do you recall how awful and invalid and underappreciated you felt because no matter how much effort you put into your work some jock who runs kinda fast will always get all the credit? I remember that and I remember how angry you were and believe me or not I’m just as mad.” She takes a deep breath. “First they cut our budget in half, then they cut the half of the half and then they cancelled my exhibition and took away more money from us and now they’re taking away our material and we’re stuck here unable to move forward and you know you can help us and you also know this is gonna be good for you, so quit being a bitch and so something goddammit!”  
By the end of her tantrum, Katya is sweaty and shaky and breathing heavily and Trixie imagines this is what she looks like after sex. She can picture it clearly in her mind, Katya’s hair being all messed up and her bangs pointing everywhere, her eyes closed as she rests her head on the pillow and her eyeliner smudged, just like her red lipstick, sweat dripping down her neck and bare chest and she pants while smiling. Okay, wow, “Katya’s bare chest”? No, we’re not going there. Penises. Trixie loves penises. Not breasts and especially not Katya’s. Dick. That’s what she likes, good old dick. Or just plain dick, any dick really, but also only dick.  
“You had a budget?” Sharon asks, raising her eyebrows for what feels like the four hundredth time. Trixie swears she sees her eye twitch. Then she snorts. “I never had a fucking budget. All of the concerts I hosted came from the student fundraisers and even from my own fucking pocket. We were on our own the whole time. Motherfuckers…”  
“We need a band. An orchestra, really” Katya says. “Will you help us? Please, Sharon, let’s leave it all behind and…”  
Sharon interrupts her. There has been a hell lot of interrupting today. “I will help you, but not because of you, actually, in spite of you.” She glances at Trixie. “Both of you.”  
“Oh my Gooood” Trixie whispers under her breath because she is 75% sure Sharon can attack her at any minute, at this point, she’s just waiting for it.  
“I’m doing this out of anger. Just so that old bitch RuPaul Charles knows I’m still here and I still got it” she continues and Katya sighs in relief. “Don’t say thank you yet, now we’re in debt. You owe me one.”  
“God, anything, Sharon!” Katya wheezes and smiles and turns to Trixie and squeezes her hand out of excitement. Trixie’s heart skips one, two, three beats but all she does is smile faintly.  
“Please keep your God out of this” Sharon replies in disgust. “Email me the music sheets, I’ll fix the rest. We’re done for now” and then she stands up and leads them both out of her classroom, slamming the door behind them.  
“We made it!” Katya hugs Trixie so unexpectedly she doesn’t even have time to react. “We’re gonna do it, Trixie, we’re gonna make them eat it!”  
Trixie smiles and lets her go, blushing so hard she thinks someone might mistake her face for a fire extinguisher. She hasn’t really said anything yet because there are only two words floating around in her head, “ex-girlfriend” and “rehab” and if she opens her mouth she might accidentally blurt one of them out and, right now, she doesn’t need this kind of embarrassment. She carries on the rest of the day trying to shake off the electric buzz from where Katya touched her and not succeeding at it.

…

Sharon is a bitch. She’s cold, sarcastic and mean, but she’s helpful and Trixie does her best not to cry every time they are in the same room. Her students have been doing an awesome job with the music for the play and she is undoubtedly an extraordinary teacher, but the mood is still heavy between her and Katya.  
Trixie never asked. She prefers not to know, actually. She and the Russian nutcase have been talking more and getting along better and Trixie doesn’t feel like ruining that by bringing up an ex, though she recognizes Katya’s sacrifice. You have a bad breakup with someone, work in the same place and still has to ask them for help? Um, hello, dignity? Yes, how far gone are you now?  
Still, their newfound “friendship” is Trixie’s new favorite reason to go to work. They laugh at each other’s bad jokes and bring each other coffee when there are morning rehearsals, they text each other about the gossip going on between the students and make bets on who’s going to slap that girl Brittany first, she’s annoying as hell. Trixie’s betting on Laila, because she takes no shit, but Katya thinks it’s gonna be her best friend Kaitlynn, which would be a plot twist worth seeing. Even though they spend significantly less time trying to kill each other now, the mood always gets a little heavy when Sharon is around - she knows too much about both of them for it to be comfortable in that room. Trixie hasn’t asked about either words floating in her head since that day.  
Then one day in October, Katya can’t come to the rehearsals. She calls in sick, but Trixie knows today is Adore’s last appointment with her doctor in Boston before she gets her implants done next month and Katya is driving her there, then they’re spending the day in town to celebrate. Trixie wishes Adore the best of luck and sends many hugs, and she never expected this, but she feels genuinely happy for the girl, no question marks needed anymore. They have talked again once or twice when she dropped by the school to ask Katya for her keys because she forgot hers or to say that she lost her phone again (she usually called about 15 minutes later every time to tell her she found it). Anyway, the thought of being stuck with Sharon for an entire hour and a half makes her sweaty and uncomfortable. She hopes and prays to God that the rumors about her being a vampire that went around when they were in high school are really a lie because she’s never been fully convinced.  
They avoid each other during the first part of the practice session but break time comes and contact is inevitable when they are the only two people left standing in the auditorium.  
Trixie is eating her strawberry yogurt by the stage (yes, even her food is pink), when Sharon approaches her. She stinks of cigarettes, just like Katya, but it’s not the same thing.  
“So I see you and Katya have gotten quite close,” she says, the same way someone would point out that it’s raining outside. Trixie doesn’t know if she’s supposed to answer, but she doesn’t want Sharon to raise her eyebrows at her again. The way she does it feels about as despicable as punching somebody’s grandma.  
“Oh, yes. We didn’t really get along at the beginning of this project, but we get along just fine now” she says, with a half-hearted smile.  
“Um. I see” she replies, bored. Well if she hates small talk so much, why does she start it? “And are you guys a thing or is it just casual?”  
Trixie gags and then spits out her yogurt. She reaches out for a napkin to clean up the mess, blushing like mad while Sharon still looks… bored.  
“What?” She screeches, trying to get yogurt off her white blouse. “No, oh my God, no way! We’re not.. We don’t… I’m not like… I like men” Trixie says, as awkwardly as humanly possible.  
“Oh,” says Sharon with a sudden smug grin after seeing Trixie embarrass herself. “Sorry, I guess. I could have sworn you guys had something going on there, but I guess it’s just in my head.”  
“It’s definitely all in your head” Trixie breathes out, cleaning her chin.  
“I’ve known Katya for a while now,” she says, “well obviously not as long as I’ve known you” she looks at Trixie side-eyed. She blushes, guilty. How long does it take a person to realize that you’re not an asshole anymore? “And she hasn’t changed a thing, you know. I mean, of course, she’s healthier now and she’s obviously sober, which is great, but she’s still the same person. And she has this way, her very peculiar way of showing people that she cares about them.”  
Trixie throws the napkin away. She thinks she knows where this is going, and she desperately wants to be wrong about it.  
“The effort she is putting into this musical… I don’t think you realize how much she cares about you” Sharon continues. Trixie’s heart starts pounding.  
“Well, the musical is important for her too, you know. I mean, it’s her dignity at stake more than mine” Trixie says between teeth.  
Sharon cackles and, God, is this woman creepy. “No, you don’t know Katya like I do. She might have started this off out of pure rage and indignation, but she’s not an angry person, that wouldn’t have been enough to fuel her. Something about you must have, I don’t know, convinced her it was a good idea. Good for you I guess.”  
Just as she finishes, the students come back from their break time, some of them still eating their apples and sandwiches. Sharon quickly gets her own ghouls back to their seats and Laila has to actually come to tap Trixie on the shoulder to ask if they can already go onstage, has she been staring straight ahead with too much in her head. She barely even nods then sits down on the front row and pretends to watch they run and rerun the first scenes.  
Katya likes her, then. But like like or like like? Alright, now she sounds like her teenage self again, great. Hell, what did Sharon mean when she said that? Of course, Katya doesn’t like her. She saw her face when Ru told them they would be working together, and honestly it was not a good face. I mean, of course, they have been getting closer the past few weeks. Katya texts Trixie about her students’ progress and they laugh at the badly sewn costumes and about the awful dance moves and then they panic together because they are raising idiots. They make inappropriate jokes about taking girls into chambers wet chambers with a boat, they complain about certain students and cast them to do the worse jobs and characters and Trixie even finds herself trying to teach Katya the lyrics to the songs.  
“You’re a brilliant singer,” Katya tells her every time. “You should be the star of every musical” to which Trixie blushes and tells her off. Alright, maybe they are past the frenemies part and now they’re just friends now, or colleagues who get along, at least, but… Is that all? It’s not like Trixie wants more, she doesn’t even like girls, if you recall, the only thing she loves is dick, yet still… It’s complicated. Not even when Katya found out about Ian, she tried to be sympathetic, to be her friend. She even made some bad comments about Trixie’s outfit that day she spilled coffee all over herself… Unless she was trying to be funny, but that’s… Well, that’s actually completely possible! Of course! No one is enough of a jerk to make fun of a coffee stain on silk, it was a joke! Comic relief! And the coffee thing too, the bad hair day thing as well! God, Trixie is so slow to pick things up! Katya had been trying to be funny all along!  
Then that means Sharon is right. Katya likes her, Katya cares about her, and suddenly Trixie feels like she can breathe again. Not because she wants Katya to like her, especially not in a romantic way, but it seems like a weight lifted off her shoulder, like one less thing to worry about. It’s just that Katya is too much of a person to be wasted as co worker you get along well with. She’s more than a project partner, she’s more than another teacher who understands her, she’s so much more than anything Trixie can name and still more than that. Whether they like each other or not, Trixie must admit the admiration she holds for Katya is something out of this world.  
She’s a lavish person who overflows in every sense of the word, her eyes shine the brightest and she always smiles the widest and her heels are the highest and her laugh is the loudest, her accent the heaviest, her words the kindest and her jokes the funniest, how can so many superlatives fit into a skinny blonde Russian who smokes three packs a day, lives with a transgender junkie, apparently has already been to rehab and used to date a satanic musician? Literally, every single new fact that Trixie learns about Katya make her seem more and more like someone you see on TV and less and less like anyone she has ever met in her whole entire life.  
She’s a handful and she’s a hot mess and Trixie wonders how someone like Katya ended up in her life at this point, and she never says it, but she’s actually very glad they’ve met. She would have missed out on so much hadn’t Katya been in her life, she doesn’t dare dream about having it a different way.  
Suddenly, Sharon snaps her fingers in front of Trixie’s eyes and she is ripped away from her thoughts, shaking her head and uncrossing her ankles from the sudden scare. “What, what is it?” she asks, her voice a little louder than usual. Sha looks past the teacher in front of her and all of the students from the orchestra and the play are staring at her, some holding their laugh back. Sharon cackles. God, can she stop doing that?  
“You zoned out. The kids are tired, and there you are, nearly vegetative. Maybe we should call it a night?” She suggests, and the students follow up with groans and moans of “please, Ms. Mattel” or “it’s Friday do we really need this night rehearsal?” to which Trixie frowns and claps to ask for silence.  
“Absolutely not,” she responds and gains more groans and complaints from the kids. She claps again and the room goes quiet again. “You’re tired? Big deal, so am I, but while we’re here working our butts off to get only a slight amount of recognition while the jocks and the cheerleaders are out there partying…”  
“Exactly,” a boy painting the scenery says from the back and before people start laughing, Trixie makes her Angry Face. Ask if any Art kid ever went to parties, she bets he sits home watching documentaries about Van Gogh’s life or writing fan fiction about him and Frida Kahlo.  
“Then leave. If all that is keeping you, anyone of you, here is your grade, then you really don’t get what this is all about” she says. “What I meant to say earlier is that while we work hard, they party. You don’t see the football players or the cheerleaders staying extra hours to practice. You don’t see them go home decided to try that new dance move they didn’t get right a few more times, or the jocks asking help to practice their catch and do you know why? Because they take everything for granted. They don’t care about how well they’re doing, they don’t care if the game on Saturday turns out to be a shitshow, they know that nothing in this school is as important as they are.”  
The room is still quiet and everyone looks mortified because they just heard Trixie Mattel herself say the word shit. She continues, this time standing up: “And we don’t do that. We work harder than we have to, we stay extra hours, we know you guys practice at home and we always go the extra mile to make sure that this is going to work, and we’re doing this now. Because when opening day comes and the princ… I mean, all of the jocks are ready to see us fail one more time, like we’ve done again and again, and they realize we’re not breaking a sweat, that the level of perfection in this performance is absolutely effortless, then they will be gagged and they will feel like garbage for ever doubting us, do you get it?” The crowd remains silent. Trixie is panting. She takes a deep breath in and clears her throat. “And of course, the cultural experience that is to be part of a play has unimaginable value” she finishes, in her normal Disney-princess voice and smile. Someone drops a paintbrush.  
“Alright, gather your stuff and get the hell out of here, I think we’ve all had enough today” Sharon breaks the silence and then there’s the noise of teenagers rushing to get home on a Friday. Trixie gives up and falls back down to the seat where she had been previously. Sharon approaches her. “Well, looks like someone’s got their war paint on tonight. Katya would have been proud of your little speech moment there”, to which she just grunts and rolls her eyes.  
…

From: Katya Zamo  
heard you defended my honor in front of a few rowdy students tonight. Thanks for that :) now I guess I owe you another bad coffee ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

…

On Saturday night, it’s Trixie and Ian’s anniversary.  
When some people learn that, in some cultures, it is normal that children are engaged or promised into marriage from an early age, they act shocked, like they would’ve never imagined something like that, but for Trixie, that’s a mere reality. Her marriage is, and she knows, nothing more than a business deal. Her parents are big on entrepreneurialism in Alverton, but so are Ian’s parents, so you can say they saw a chance and they took it, since simply becoming business partners seems like such a troublesome task, right?  
Anyway, Trixie and Ian have known each other since they were babies. In high school, she was the sweet freshman cheerleader and he was the handsome and flirty senior she had her first kiss with under the bleachers but told her mom it had been at prom. He went off to college and then she did and when she came back they crossed paths again in a very natural way… Too natural, if you ask her. They kept meeting casually at business dinners and church services and events around town and when he unpredictably asked her out for dinner she already knew she was going to say yes. Her mother took her shopping for a new dress and perfume and nobody knows that but they fucked on that first date, in the back of his car, parked near the old town sports center.  
And it really did seem to her like rich young love and she enjoyed it until the dinner incident happened and that made Trixie realize every single second of her relationship had been part of a bigger plan all along and she was the only one who didn’t get a say in it, but then it was already too late to back down.  
So she accepted it. She made peace with the fact that this is her life now and there’s nothing to do about it. Until, of course, she was forced to start coexisting with Katya.  
Something about that woman made her feel hopeful, and it was not a good something. See, for the longest time after all the shit hit the fan in her life, Trixie felt numb. Smiling and being kind had been her automatic response to literally anything, because she couldn’t process anything else, really. But then, Katya came along and for the first time in a long, loooong time, she felt annoyed. And irritated. Then amused. Then annoyed again. And then there was that strange bonding moment, right before she showed up with a bruise on her face and she felt numb again for about 2.5 seconds before Katya gave her sulfuric acid in a coffee cup and then she was annoyed and amused and annoyed again, but now she’s confused and yet grateful. Katya unintentionally managed to pull her out of her depressive-numb zone just by being herself and if that doesn’t say anything about her, Trixie doesn’t know what will.  
The closer they have been getting, the further away from the void that used to be her personality she has been getting. She’s laughing more, she’s singing more and her feet don’t even hurt as much from her heels anymore. But at the same time, this means she is far away out of the little shell she used to crawl in whenever Ian was around and he hasn’t been very pleased about this. It’s almost like whenever she’s with Katya she can forget about real life for a while and she only has to worry about the musical and making her co worker laugh at inappropriate jokes she never knew she could tell.  
Unfortunately, today she needs to step back into the real world and put on her good girl mask back on and make sure to give Ian the night of his life. First, she bought him a new silver watch that she knows he’s been eyeing, then she went to the hairdresser and asked for the highest coif and the fullest curls known to humanity, stopped by her favorite boutique to pick up her new dress (this one isn’t pink, it’s red - she thinks it’s sexy. And it definitely doesn’t come from the association to Katya’s red lipstick, why would you even consider something like that? Trixie likes dick!), bought herself some nice black stilettos and got her nails done. She considered getting a wax job but thought Ian might find it slutty of her, so she just stuck to her good old razor and prayed she would get some action just from the effort.  
At eight o’clock, they sit at the most romantic restaurant in Alverton, John, the pizza and coffee shop guy, is their waiter, they are holding hands after they’ve exchanged their gifts (Ian got her a golden necklace with matching earrings) and looking deeply into each other's eyes between “I love you”s and “Let’s go to Spain again soon”s and “Are your parents coming to brunch this Sunday?”s. It’s a perfect night, at least as perfect as it gets, then Ian drives her home and lets himself in as Trixie pours him a glass of wine and then takes off his shoes as he sits on her couch.  
She sits on his lap and they kiss and kiss until she can’t feel her lips and he starts feeling her skin under her dress and the only thing she can think of is thank God I for not letting me shave in vain.  
Suddenly, he pulls away. “What about another glass of wine and then we make it to the bedroom?” He gives her a quick peck on the lips and she smiles.  
“I think it’s an amazing idea” she takes the empty wine glass from the coffee table. She hops off his lap, her heels are already off, and she floats into the kitchen looking for the bottle she had already opened. When she walks back into the kitchen, Ian has her phone in his hand and for what she can tell, he is reading through her texts, like he’s done many times before.  
Well, it’s over.  
“I didn’t know you and Katya were friends,” he says in that tone that she knows, she just knows. She feels a chill running down her spine.  
“We get along, yeah,” she says and hands him the wine. “We aren’t super close or anything but…”  
“You have to stop talking to her.” He says, serious as ever.  
“What? Why?” Trixie asks. She feels rage bubble up from her stomach, and oh, not again! Not this same conversation, not his same fucked up reasons, not the same outcome, not today, not again.  
“Because she’s not a good company for you. She’s a smoker, her apartment looks like a college dorm, she’s an immigrant and…” he starts and Trixie looks baffled.  
“You can’t be serious” she mutters under her breath and facepalms. “Ian, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Why are we even talking about this? This should be our night”  
“What do you mean by that?” He ignores her last statement. “Of course I know what I’m talking about, I know what’s best for you” he raises his voice. She tries to start talking, but he doesn’t let her. “Trixie, look at the way you talk to her, these jokes you make… That’s not you. I don’t recognize this person.”  
She takes a deep breath in. “You know what, Ian? Maybe I am this person. Maybe I like dirty jokes and I don’t actually believe in everything the priest says in church and sometimes I do get sick of this boring life you make me live because you never allowed me to have any friends” she says, as calmly as she manages to do so. Whatever it is that bubbled up inside of her previously has finally reached her mouth and she doesn’t think she can’t stop herself anymore.  
It’s happening, she thinks, and today is the day.  
“See? Can you hear yourself saying this?” He fires back, standing up and, instead of her habitual reflexive flinch, she takes a step forward.  
“You know what, Ian? Over the past few months, I have been going on and on about how I can’t fucking stand Principal Charles underestimating me and throwing me under the bus, but honestly? Every time I come to you, the way you treat me feels ten thousand times worse. And I don’t have to stay, I don’t have to be here right now, but you guilt trip me back into this every single time and you know what? I’m done, Ian!”  
“What the hell, Trixie? Where is all of this coming from, what are you trying to tell me?”  
“You still have the audacity to ask, as if you’re innocent!” Trixie has no idea what’s come over her, but she can’t stop now. “Ian, you turned my life into a miserable living hell, and you still act as if I’m the one to blame when we both know that I’m not! You are the monster here, you are the one to blame!”  
“Trixie you don’t know what you’re saying! How dare you tell me that I’m the monster when clearly I am the only person in this relationship that has ever put any effort into it? Have you never loved me at all?” He screams back.  
“I might have at some point, but we all make mistakes, right?” She removes her earrings and throws them at him. God, how did this even start? “I’m done, Ian. You can take your engagement ring and give it back to your grandmother, or you might just want to shove it up your own ass.”  
Ian turns red and he is now boiling with pure anger and that’s when the first slap comes, the exact same spot as last time, the exact same wound. Then comes the second one, and even though Trixie never saw them coming, she doesn’t shy away or yelp out in pain, but instead she comes closer to Ian one more time and spits on his face.  
“You disgust me” She starts. “You’re nothing more than a manipulative motherfucker who doesn’t know how to love anybody, including yourself. You carried me into this mess and I let you but don’t be mistaken - this is all your fault. You did this. On your own.” The first tear runs down her cheek.  
“Sometimes I wish you could feel what it’s like to be me when I’m with you. There is no punishment worse than that, and God forgive me, you deserve it, you deserve every second of the pain you make me feel, of the fear and paranoia you set up in my head, the hopelessness in my heart…You are a bad person, Ian. I may forgive you one day, but I will never forgive myself for trusting you, for letting you ruin me. You had no right to do that.”  
“What’s up with you now, you whore?” He says and tries to hold both of her arms, but she is quicker and pulls them away, taking a step back.  
“Don’t you dare, Ian Elswood. You come into my house…” She starts and he lets out a loud, fake laugh.  
“Your house, Trixie? Don’t you mean daddy’s house?” Ian adds. “You know you’re nothing without me. When your parents hear about this, who do you think they’re gonna side with? Spoiled little girl, who can’t take no for an answer or the only man who ever wanted to give her a future?”  
Trixie feels her heart sinking, but she never backs down. “Had you said that to me two months ago I would have cried and this would have been the end of yet another fight, and you would have won, again, but do you know what, Ian? Not today. Today I’m going to tell you what I should have told you the first time this happened, and that is you are not my owner. I am not your girl and my future, my success depends on no one else but me. You can keep your smug act up, you can go crawl back to my parents, but if you really, for one second, believed that you ever owned me, every idea of a future that you ever had has been no more than a big joke.”  
He tries to start talking again, but she doesn’t let him. “And talking about future, Ian, I don’t think you should stuff your chest just yet. See, you make me miserable and fearful and that’s not me, even if I believed it was for a while. You put me through hell, but I kept going. I’m going to be scarred forever and you know this, but someday I’m gonna be happy again. Meanwhile, you’re gonna look back at what you’ve done to me and guilt is gonna eat you alive. So I don’t really have to wish you feel all the pain you put me through, you’re gonna have it way worse. Now get out of my house, get out of my life. I never want to see you again.”  
Ian storms off and slams the door behind him. All of the things Trixie said were still lingering in the air and they don’t match her curtains. She strolls back to the kitchen and finishes that bottle of wine. It’s too good to be wasted.

…

“Maybe this time” Trixie sings as she tries the bathtub water with her toes to see if it’s warm enough. “I’ll be lucky…”  
After she kicked Ian out, she cried out all of her makeup, drank two more bottles of wine and decided she needed a bath. So she stripped down, filled her tub and as she did it, she took a chance to play her favorite song over and over. It’s repeating for the seventh time now. “Maybe this time he’ll stay” she sings along. “Maybe this time, for the first time, love won’t hurry away” she climbs into the bathtub after letting her silky pink ruffled robe fall to the tiles in her bathroom. She continues humming the song in silence, with her eyes closed.  
“Everybody loves a winner” she continues loudly, and surprisingly in tune. “So nobody loves me, Lady Peaceful, Lady Happy, that’s what I long to be” she carries out the last note exaggeratedly. She stays in the bathtub thinking about everything but the hell she’s gonna have to face tomorrow morning with her parents and the devil himself.  
“All the odds are in my favor, something’s bound to begin” she carries on. She felt something tonight that she had never felt before, and she did something she thought she’d never do. She doesn’t even know where all of that came from, all she knows is that it was an explosion. “It’s gotta happen, happen sometime…” The water is full of bubbles and she scrubs her arms with soap.  
Well, Ian had part of what he deserved, but she still has so much left for him. She doesn’t think she’ll ever run out of things to yell at him, actually. But then she starts thinking, which is hard to do when you’re balls deep into your third bottle of the night. Technically, the argument started because of Katya.  
So, if she broke up with her fiancé and might be about to be disowned by her parents, of course it’s not her own fault - it’s Katya’s. She did this to her, all of this… To all of her! Well, if Ian already heard to quite a bit of what he had to… Maybe Katya should too. After all, this is all her fault anyway.  
“Maybe this time” Trixie shouts. “I’ll wiiiin” she really carries out the last note. She gets up and out of the bathtub.  
It’s a great time to go talk to Katya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, nice lil' cliffhanger for you, oopsie. I just wanted to let you know that I might take a bit longer to post chapter six, the end of part 2. It's going to be a pretty intense chapter and I have a lot going on with college, so I think I'd rather take my time and write it nice and pretty (lol we all know it's gonna be everything but nice and pretty but still). Thank you for the comprehension and please don't show up at my house with torches and pitchforks, it won't take longer than two weeks I promise!


	6. Part 2 - I'll leave the light on for a while

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is the longest chapter yet and it's probably going to be the longest one in this whole story, so take ur time hoes. Also thank you for being patient, this took me forever to write!!  
> If y'all wanna stalk me or send me asks [this is the place to go](http://highonbrunost.tumblr.com/)! I'm lonely and I need validation!  
> (link is fixed!)  
> Here's chapter six, hope you like it and thank you so much for reading!

The one thing that Katya enjoys the most about being a “real adult” and having a “real adult life” is that she has a routine: she knows where she’s going to be every day from Monday to Monday, at all hours and she knows exactly what she’s going to be late for. If you asked a younger, twenty-something-year-old Katya, what she thinks about the routine of thirty-five-year-old Katya, she would have made a barfing sound and continue smoking her cigarette, laughing at the thought of a routine, but what she doesn’t know is that in a very short amount of time, she’s going to love the idea of knowing where she’s going to end up sleeping,  _ if  _ she ends up sleeping.

And Katya’s routine may sound boring to some, but it may also sound like an unachievable dream to others. She starts every day by waking up at five thirty in the morning and having her smoke, weekends included. From Monday to Friday, she has to spend the whole day at school, but she likes it there so it’s alright. Considering that she doesn’t have that many groups to teach anymore, she has a lot of free time to do her grading and class planning, so once she gets home she has all the time in the world to do whatever she wants: going grocery shopping, trying out a new recipe from random cookbooks she buys off the internet, cleaning the house, doing yoga and painting. The thought of having free time would make some people tear up. 

Saturdays are not that different. She still wakes up at five thirty, she still has her smoke on the balcony but she doesn’t rush. She always makes a big ol’ American breakfast with eggs, bacon, and pancakes, eats them and by the time Adore wakes up the house is tidy and neat for them to mess it up again. She sits down and reads, usually, for most of the day, or makes a random Pinterest board that she’s probably never gonna go back to. Sometimes, the girls from the club, and even Bianca, come over for a chat and some iced tea with vodka in it,  since they have unlearned how to drink anything that isn’t alcoholic. At night, she puts on her makeup, her best outfit, her dancing shoes and goes down to the Dame, just to kill time, talk to the girls and flirt with strangers while sipping on some virgin Sex On The Beach. 

She loves her life and her calm routine that allows her to binge watch any reality TV show she wants at any time, but sometimes it can get… Tiring. It’s tiring not having something to look forward to, it’s tiring not having someone to come home to and fuck until you can’t breathe, it’s tiring to be thirty-five living with a twenty-seven-year-old junkie who still thinks they’re eighteen and, most of all, it’s tiring to feel like you’re stuck in a world you in which don’t belong in anymore. 

Katya’s suffered from an illness called addiction. For many years of her life, she consumed more cocaine and alcohol than actual food and, when you blend that in with her already existing anxiety, it isn’t pretty. She’s done things she doesn’t even know the name of and many times exchanged her body for it, which is not, to be fair, an  _ ideal _ life, but hey, you work with what you get. 

After Ginger died, it got worse. More drugs, more strange beds, more greasy men and less Katya. Moving to Alverton literally saved her life. She didn’t have to hook around anymore, she just stripped, and she made some good coin from it. Her life started changing for the better: she met Sharon, she started taking her online classes and suddenly she didn’t have to be using any strong substances anymore, but of course, when you’re an addict, that’s not how your brain works. She still snorted an occasional line, smoked her everyday weed and drank her every night vodka, and she kept it going, but then one day, line after line after line, a little bit of this with a little bit of that and a whole lot of those resulted in her lying unconscious on a hospital bed, drooling and shitting herself while Bianca, Sharon and Adore watched. 

The next day, when she woke up, Bianca was the only one standing there, still wearing the same and smelling the same from last night. “You’re going to rehab,” she said. Katya was still too out of it to answer properly, so she replied something in Russian because she didn’t remember she had to speak English. But, in the end, she did go to rehab the very same day. And she stayed there for six months until she came back and finished her studies and in less than a year he was employed at Alverton High as an art teacher. 

So, yes, she loves the girls at the club, she loves Adore and Bianca to death, but she feels stuck in a life that isn’t meant to be hers anymore and, while people may think the opposite, Katya is  _ weak _ . She smells the alcohol and she wants to taste it, she wants the burn, she looks at the white powder and longs for the high, she doesn’t trust herself around sharp objects because she has flashbacks of needles penetrating her skin slowly and gently as she let out a little whine that she knows turned Sharon on so much she even forgot how dangerous it was for her girlfriend to be doing that to herself. 

Oh, Sharon. Katya doesn’t miss her, but she wishes she would, so that’s enough for her not to feel bad about it. There was no feeling, there was only lust. There was drunk fucking in bathroom stalls and teasing at bar stools and loud moaning down the hall. If she tries hard enough, she can remember the exact feeling of Sharon’s skin on hers as they laid in bed, sweaty and gross, skin red from slapping and necks tight from choking. Katya doesn’t miss her as a girlfriend, but she misses her as a lover for sure. 

She misses not taking her acrylics off because her girlfriend liked the scratch, she misses getting to say things like“tell me how much you want me to touch you, tell me how much you want me to fuck you, how hard you want me to go… you get so wet for me, you filthy slut, I bet you can’t wait to feel my breath right on your pussy” seeing her get all worked up, she misses her breathy, dry voice asking her to “put your hands on my neck, don’t stop until I can’t breathe”, she misses her showing up at the club and watching Katya from up close because she knew how hard she was trying not to touch herself and she misses diving into Sharon so deep she would scream and would hold her head down so that she wasn’t even able to come up for air. 

Well now she doesn’t wear acrylic nails anymore, and she doesn’t get to talk dirty or eat anyone out, but she’s still got a functioning hand, loneliness and a weird kink for thunder thighs and pink stockings. How pathetic does a person have to be to end up reduced to nothing but her imagination and no will to take action on her feelings or her, hm,  _ feelings _ . 

Every Saturday, as she’s getting ready to go out to the Dame, she opens her lingerie drawer with a cigarette in her mouth and asks herself “am I getting laid tonight?”, to which the answer is, and has been for a while,  _ no _ , but she still wears her pretty lacy underwear because she is a hot piece of ass who deserves to look cute even when nobody’s gonna see it. It’s called self-care, look it up. 

But then tonight… Tonight is different. Tonight she feels sexy and horny and tonight she has, finally, answered  _ yes, I am getting laid _ , and nothing is getting in her way. It’s just been pretty fucking long. She has only been with one or two women since she left Sharon and it was nothing but drunk one night stands. They left before morning and Katya woke up cold, sad and alone, just like she did every other night. And she’s not up for that bullshit anymore. The idea of a one-night stand doesn’t sound awful, but the idea of a mediocre hookup sure does. Tonight, she’s ready to go full in, she’s talking loud and filthy and intense, she wants to wake up tomorrow morning and find a nice looking stranger next to her, make them breakfast, let them shower and kick them out before ten. 

With that in mind, she looks through her lingerie drawer in search for the sluttiest set she can possibly find and runs her fingers over an expensive looking red lace one that she actually got on sale at a Target back in Boston. Looks perfect and doesn’t smell awful, so she slowly puts on the panties and as she is about to pick up the bra, she hears a sloppy knock on the door. 

“Just a second” she yells and then whispers “fuck, fuck, fuck.” Who in the hell would be enough of a dick to show up at somebody’s house at eleven fucking p.m.? Probably one of Adore’s friends who are looking for her or even Adore herself who probably needs something and lost her keys (again). Katya puts on a large t-shirt that she has been using as a pajama for the past week and makes her way to the door quickly, regretting having her high heels on already. 

She struggles a bit with the key because whoever it is has been knocking more insistently, which is pissing Katya off in unimaginable ways. She finally manages to open the door and her eyes widen, her mouth drops and her heart stops when she sees who is standing, or at least trying to stand on the other side. Try to picture in your mind, a very drunk blonde wearing a long, pink ruffled robe and holding a bottle of wine that is already half empty. Her hair is messy, her makeup is ruined and her pom pom slippers are dirty. She recognizes the body and the face, but Katya is sure there must have been some sort of demonic possession there because Trixie Mattel would never in her life allow people to see her like this. 

“Well, there you are! I’ve been looking for you  _ everywhere _ !” She shouts, really carrying out those vowels, and lets herself in, chugging some wine. Katya remains at the door, too shocked to move. What. The. Fuck.  “I gotta talk to you, and it’s real, like, real serious”, she says as she flops down onto the couch and smiles. 

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.This is either an answer to her previous “Dear Lord, I’m super horny, help me get laid tonight” prayers or her worst fucking nightmare coming to life. Fuck. Looks like both. 

“Trixie, what the hell is going on with you?” Katya asks after she shuts the door and comes closer to her colleague. She can see that her hair had been styled with some beautiful waves earlier, but now it’s flat and some of the ends are sticking up, and her coif looks like a sad boner. Her mascara is all run down her face, her MAC lipstick has been reduced to some smudges to the side of her mouth and she only has one piece of fake eyelashes on. 

“What the hell is going on with  _ me _ ?” She points a finger to her face and then shakes her head no. “What the hell is going on with  _ you _ !” She keeps pointing to herself and it takes her five seconds to turn her finger in Katya’s direction, angrily. “It’s your fault that I’m here. Actually, everything is your fault and you need… to stop!” She widens her eyes and smiles like a motherfucking maniac and Katya would be lying if she says she isn’t scared.

“What? What the fuck, what did I even do to you?” She asks, dumbfounded and then Trixie, takes another sip of the wine and Katya notices something she hadn’t seen before: Barbie is crying. 

“Ian is jealous okay? It’s not his fault, he just loves me too much. But he’s jealous!” She whines. “So he saw your text, and he doesn’t even know you’re a lesbian, fuck knows what he’d do if he knew! He said to me, he said ‘Don’t talk to her, she’s is a bad influence, blah blah blah,’, and then do you know what I did, Katya?” She asks and points at herself again.

“No…” Katya replies.  What. The. Actual. Fuck. Did Trixie just say a swear word? Has she known that word all along?

“I stood up for you! Because you’re funny and Sharon said you liked me!” She whines again and Katya blushes. Sharon said  _ what _ ? “But he didn’t like that very much and I got very tired. I don’t know. Something happened. And then we had a fight.” Her tone is now a lot more serious. 

Katya freezes. Sure, she’s confused and upset because there’s a drunk girl yelling at her for no logical reason, but suddenly, she doesn’t care about what Sharon’s been saying about her or how Trixie’s breath is enough to get a grown man drunk, when she associates the name Ian with the word fight, all she thinks of is this very same drunk girl crying at a school restroom with a small cut on her face. Her instincts kick in and she holds Trixie by her arms, kneeling down in front of her, while the girl breaks down crying. “Trixie, look at me,” she asks and the girl does. “Did he hurt you? Did he do anything to you?”

“Yes, Katya, of course he fucking hurt me. That’s the only thing he’s done suc.. Successul… suceccsful… Right, it’s the only thing he’s done right for all of the years we dated okay! And tonight I just happened not to be cool with that anymore so I spit on his face and told him to leave, Katya. I broke it up” She screams at once, barely even breathing between words, and sobs.

Katya slowly moves her hands and she feels her heartbeat on her throat, but she uses all of her strengths to pretend that she’s calm and collected and that there isn’t a huge _ what the fuck _ neon sign flashing on her head. She wipes Trixie’s tears away with her thumbs while holding the sides of her face, and the girl stares deep into her eyes. 

“Trixie, I’m very proud of you,” she says, softly. Trixie sobs.

“Don’t be,” she cries out. “I fucking ruined the rest of my life, Katya, do you have any idea of what that’s like?” Well, coincidentally, yes, Katya thinks, but she doesn’t say anything because she’s not that kind of asshole and Trixie needs her moment. “I was going to get married and be a good trophy wife, birth a few babies and be very rich but now? What am I gonna do now?”

“Trixie, don’t…” Katya starts, placing her hands on Trixie’s knees. 

“I’m gonna call him,” She says standing up, leaving Katya on her knees on the floor, but she loses balance and falls back on the couch. “I’ll tell him it was all a prank. I’ll tell him I didn’t mean it and that I still love him and…”

“Trixie you don’t have your phone on you” Katya informs her, with the softest voice she manages to pitch. 

“Oh,”  she frowns and wipes away the tears. “I guess I’ll just walk there, then,” she says and tries to stand up again, fails. Katya, then, jumps to her feet and holds Trixie to the couch.

“You, ma’am, are not going anywhere,” she says. “Let’s just, you know, sit down and chat a little until you feel better… You know what, why don’t I get you a nice, cold drink?” She suggests, raising her eyebrows. She’s going into club mode, which is when everyone around you is too wasted and high to take care of themselves and suddenly you have to be the responsible one. 

Trixie, with her eyes still watered, lets out a naughty laugh. “I love drinks. I tell people I don’t… but I do” she nods. Katya smiles and nods with her, their faces so close their noses almost touch. 

“Why don’t you chill here and give me this” she takes the wine bottle from her hand “while I go into the kitchen to prepare this amazing little drink for you?”

“Yeah, ok. I’ll sit here. Or here” she says and lets herself fall onto the seat. Trixie laughs again. Katya laughs too, then skips into the kitchen, throws the wine away, counts to ten while breathing deeply to try and calm herself down. She pulls out her phone.

 

**To: A**

**Not coming tonight, sorry. Long story, you will absolutely not believe it.**

 

**From: A**

**:(( u better make some good shit up**

 

**To: A**

**Oh you’ll love it. Think: Trixie Mattel**

 

**To: A**

**Drunk as fuck**

 

**To: A**

**Crying on our couch**

 

**From: A**

**Ur right**

 

**From: A**

**i dont believe it**

 

Katya throws her phone on the counter and pours some sparkling water on a tall glass, and even places one of those tiny umbrellas on top of it. Trixie’s so out of it she won’t notice that there isn’t any alcohol in it, as long as there’s bubbles, you got enough to keep any drunk entertained. 

When Katya walks back into the living room, Trixie has taken off her robe and she is staring at the paintings while sitting on the floor just like a child, eyes shining and all. Katya’s heart breaks a little to think anyone would ever have the guts to hurt such an enchanting, beautiful creature. Well, an enchanting and beautiful creature who has forgotten to put a bra on underneath her pink and slightly sheer babydoll nightgown but still manages to be very adorable and not sexual at all. At all.

Katya sits in front of her and hands her the water. “Here you are,” she says and Trixie smiles.

“Don’t you have one for yourself?” The drunk girl asks, looking mildly concerned and pitiful. 

“No, that’s a special one, just for you,” she says smiling. “Besides, I don’t drink.”

“Oooh” Trixie goes, “me neither” and then she manages to do the fakest and most exaggerated wink ever witnessed by mankind. Katya laughs at her.

“It’s fine, go ahead” she tries convincing Trixie into drinking the water and when she does, she just stares at the glass for a few seconds before looking up.

“There’s bubbles in it” she whispers in sheer delight and laughs like a schoolgirl. Drunk Trixie is childish and adorable and Katya can’t help but stare at her in awe for being the single most precious thing alive at this very moment. “I didn’t think you liked me enough to give me a bubbled drink but now I think Sharon is right” she blushes, still thoroughly entertained by the fizz in her water.

“And,” Katya clears her throat, “what exactly did Sharon say to you, Barbie?” Maybe she should be more worried about the fact that her friend (friend? Are they friends?) has been in a serious fight with her fiancé and broke up their relationship after years of enduring abuse behavior from him, but hey, she brought the whole Sharon thing up, let the girl speak. 

Trixie blushes heavily but is too busy tracing bubbles with her index to look at Katya. “I say that I hate it when you call me that but I actually really like it” she giggles. Katya can absolutely not deal with this woman right now. “But Sharon said that… uh… well, I don’t know I was  _ scared _ ” she says and tilts her head, rolling her eyes as if it’s obvious that one can’t remember an interaction with Ms. Needles because they’d be too terrified to function properly. Katya sighs, losing hope. She’ll never know. “But it was something like… uh, she said that you’re putting too much effort into the musical and that it’s all because of me” she smiles proudly. Katya’s heart is melting. She’s just _ too cute _ .

“Well, that’s partly true,” she says, trying inhumanly hard not to let show that all she wants is to tell Trixie what a precious angel princess she is and that she’d do anything for her in the blink of an eye, especially if she keeps dressing up like that. “I know how much the musical means to you and it’s not fair that all I do is use it for my own personal revenge and fulfillment, so yeah, I think you deserve to have some personal fulfillment yourself, so...” she shrugs. 

Trixie is now looking at her the same way she was looking at the bubbles before. “So Sharon is right! You do like me!” She smiles and claps. “That’s so nice. I thought you didn’t really like me but now I’m happy ‘cause I know you do!”

Katya can’t help her smile anymore. Trixie then, unexpectedly, sets her drink down and places her cold hands on both sides of Katya’s face, leans in closer and pouts, with her eyes closed. Katya waits and her heart is racing. Out of all the things that have been going on here, tonight, this has got to be the weirdest.

“Uh… Trixie?” Katya’s voice is shaky. “Can I ask you what you’re doing?”

“I’m waiting for you to kiss me” she replies, pouting, and stays still, save for leaning in a bit more. Fast and Furious Eight: Katya’s Heart Could Beat Vin Diesel In The Blink Of An Eye, trademark.

“... Why?” She asks, uneasy, while  _ ohmygodwhatishappening _ resonates across her brain in five different languages. When a pretty girl is trying to kiss you, you don't’ ask why, you just kiss her! That’s all you gotta do! Don’t question it! Why is Katya so stupid!!!

“Because you like me!” Trixie answers and then opens one eye. “Don’t you?”

Oh, confrontation, alcohol and a traumatized Barbie doll sitting on her living room floor. Kaya  _ loves _ Saturdays! Also, she wants to die. 

“Of course I like you! But when Sharon said that, I don’t think she meant it the way you think she did!” Katya says, but the last sentence was unheard because at the same time Trixie was saying “Then why don’t you want to kiss me?” in that whiny, spoiled white girl voice that she does.

Katya sighs very deeply and takes Trixie’s hands into hers from her own face. “Listen, Barbie, you’ll probably not remember this tomorrow morning, so I’m just gonna say it at once, okay? I really wanna kiss you. But I’m not going to. Because one, you’re drunk. You _ think  _ you want this but maybe your brain is only tricking you into thinking you want this. Two,” she puts a strand of hair behind Trixie’s ear, “you’re sad and vulnerable and I get it, I’ve been there too. Three, I don’t even think you like kissing girls, Barbie, I think you’re just stunned about all of this that’s going on.”

Trixie’s face becomes harsh all of a sudden. “Well,  _ Matryoshka _ , do you know what I am really sick of?” She stands up. “One, people thinking they know me better than _ I _ know me. Guess the fuck what, if this right here, right now is unex... Unpesc.. If you never thought this could happen, then you are not free to make assumptions about me, got it?”

Katya stands up too, as she speaks and tries to argue back, but Trixie doesn’t stop talking. “Two, the fact that you talk to me like I could break at any second. Fuck right off, Katya, I can take more than you imagine, alright? And third, I like using complicated words to sound smart but I can’t say them when I’m drunk! Okay? And like, fuck off! You don’t know me! You think you do but you don’t and,  _ perhaps _ , and that means maybe, you’d like to think twice before you go around assuming things just because I’m pretty, spoiled and blonde, okay?”

Trixie shouted all of that. Actual shouts. And Katya’s chest has been poked by Trixie so many times it’s started hurting and so she walked backward and now she’s scared, stunned and stuck between her living room wall and a girl with size F cups who looks too intimidating for someone who’s wearing a vintage nightgown and no bra. Now see this, in Katya’s mind, when she imagines herself in this position, not that she does it a lot, she absolutely doesn’t, she never felt anything but genuinely excited and turned on, ready to take this girl on and make it fucking worth their while - all the way. She’s talking hair pulling, dirty talking, butt slapping and some goddamn pussy eating. And now, as Trixie leans in closer to the point where Katya can feel her breasts on her own chest, her drunken breath on her neck and eyes on her lips, she can feel herself giving in to the warmth of their bodies touching each other and her legs don’t feel so firm anymore and then Trixie’s face is so close to her that she instinctively closes her eyes and that’s it. 

Trixie throws up all over herself and Katya’s shoes. Of. Fucking. Course. 

 

…

 

At one in the morning on a Saturday night, Katya expected to be all sweaty from mom-dancing at the club with her girls, or grinding on a long-haired, nice-smelling stranger and whispering things in her ear she wouldn’t dare say out loud (actually, she would), and making plans for a bathroom quickie if it went too fast. Or maybe she’d be home because she would have had a bad night out, which happens when people are drinking too much and she can’t fucking stand to smell any alcohol anymore, and when Violet says she’ll be gone with Pearl for two seconds but she knows they’re doing a few lines before their shifts on the stage and she’d have a few flashbacks from when she did that herself, so she would just come home and take some sleeping pills to make the little voice in her head shut the fuck up.

But, out of all scenarios imaginable, holding Trixie’s hair as she throws up down her toilet after having a  _ moment _ with her is definitely not the one she would have picked out. She needs a cigarette. No, she needs a whole pack of them. 

“It’s alright, you’re fine,” Katya says as she pats her in the back and pulls on her hair a bit more, just to make sure. She thinks Trixie spends more money on her hair than she does on her rent and she’s absolutely right. “It’s okay baby girl.” _Baby girl_? Since when does she call people that?

“Don’t call me that” Trixie says between barfs, and then coughs. “I’m still mad at you.” She pukes again. 

Katya sighs. Invading her house drunk as a fish, throwing yourself onto her and now vomiting everywhere and Trixie still thinks she’s entitled to any sort of authority over her. Well, how very ungrateful, she thinks. She’s always so arrogant, assuming Katya would let her stay, thinking she is all that… Well, Katya has some news for Ms. Mattel: she didn’t have to let her in, in the first place, she didn’t even have to be here right now holding her hair and rubbing her back while she pukes and yet… She is. Oh well, she has no argument for that, only that she wishes Trixie Mattel to be damned, but in a way that will not harm or make her feel bad at all. Authoritarian, narcissistic and conceited? Yes. A cute angel who deserves nothing but love, happiness, and puppies? Also yes. One more time, God damn Trixie Mattel. 

Trixie wipes her mouth and falls back against the wall. She burps and whines. “I can’t believe I’m letting anybody see me like this,” she says, eyes closed and hand on her forehead. “God, especially you.”

Katya snort laughs. “Why me?” she asks as she flushes the toilet and sits on her knees, facing Trixie.  The concept of people fearing to seem ridiculous near her is hilarious if you consider that she wears hairpins with plastic eyes on them, or necklaces and earrings made out of cigarette butts. “You look better now than I do when I put on actual effort, Barbie. Don’t worry about it.” 

“You,” Trixie answers, “because I can’t think of anybody else. Not just now. At all” she sighs. “You have this thing, Katya… Like, okay. I like pretty things, right? I like looking at pretty things and I think I should look pretty too, I just _ love  _ pretty. But out of all pretty things I’ve ever seen… It’s like… You remind me of those… what are they called? Fuck, those pictures that are just messy and make no sense… Absorbent? Ab… Abat?”

“Abstract?” Katya asks, raising her eyebrows and Trixie nods.

“Yeah, that” she confirms. “You remind me of an abstract painting because you are so beautiful, but I can’t understand _ shit _ . I don’t know, there’s just a lot of you to grasp. You’re a complicated idea.”

Katya’s breath is caught in her throat. The loveliest person she has ever met, sitting in front of her right now, telling her she’s just like art.  _ You’re beautiful, but I can’t understand shit. You’re a complicated idea. _ She stays there, speechless, looking straight at Trixie. This girl will be the death of her. Also, she really needs those cigarettes. And she’s starting to panic. 

“How are you feeling?” She asks, sweaty and trying not to show the engines working in her brain. 

Trixie immediately shifts moods, dropping her carefree face and putting on a frown instead. She stares at Katya in that mean way that she does and, fuck, Katya hates it. Getting that look makes her feel just as guilty as if she had punched somebody’s grandmother and kicked a puppy. “Guess” she raises her eyebrows and burps again, leans forward and spitting in the toilet. “I feel gross and stupid” she responds when she lifts her head to stare at Katya. She leans back on the wall once again and whines. “My nightie is ruined.”

“Okay, do you want to shower, maybe? I mean, the water doesn’t heat up very well and I know it’s about fifty degrees outside, but, it will make you feel better” she says, putting a strand of blonde hair behind the girl’s ear. It’s not the first time she’s done it tonight and she feels like she could do it forever.

“I love this idea, but I don’t think I can get up” she laughs, drunkenly and then whines again. 

“Alright then, I guess I’ll just have to improvise. Stay still” Katya says and shifts over to the cabinet under the sink, picks up the smoothest facial towel she can find and then gets up, turns on the warm water, because yes, their sink has warm water but their shower doesn’t because they’re fucking poor, okay, that’s why. 

She soaks the towel in hot water and twists it so that the excess comes off and then places herself in front of Trixie.

“What are you doing, you weirdo?” Trixie asks, just as Katya starts wiping the towel on her cheeks. 

“I’m making you less gross, happy now?” Katya replies with a somewhat harsh tone but still moving gently on Trixie’s skin, trying to scrub off the mascara that has run down her face. She holds the other girl’s chin and now they’re looking into each other’s eyes again and it gives Katya that butterfly-ish feeling on her stomach, and even though she tries her hardest to ignore it, the light that beams from Trixie’s eyes makes it even harder for her to give it up now. Trixie just makes things generally hard for Katya, and if she were a man, it would be way more literal than it is right now.

They both just sit there, Katya keeps cleaning Trixie’s face when the girl decides to hum a song that she doesn’t know, but she wishes she could hear her sing it. Katya even offers to brush Trixie’s teeth but she gives her that look again, so she fetches the water from the living room and gives it to her so she can sip on it a little in order for her to feel a bit better. 

“Thank you,” Trixie says, holding tight to the glass like it’s about to run away. “I’m sorry I’m such a brat,” she frowns, pouting. 

“It’s fine, Barbie. You can brat around as much as you want tonight. It’s a good way to loosen up” Katya says, softly, with a smile.

“I am very loose!” Trixie replies, laughing. She remembers the joke! Not even Katya herself remembered it, she had to think for two seconds to realize. This girl. She’s too much. Here she is, sitting in her bathroom after throwing up, puffy face from all the crying, filthy clothes and alcohol stink in her hair, and yet she’s still the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. Her eyes are still bright and she still laughs through it all even though everything around her has fallen apart, her smile still makes Katya swoon and seeing her messed up like this only makes Katya realize she’s human too. 

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” Katya tosses the piece of cloth at the sink. “I’m not gonna let you shower until you’re sober because I think you might drown or fall, so I’m gonna take you to the bedroom…”

“And what are you gonna do then?” Trixie asks back, raising her eyebrows and Katya blushes. 

“ _ Then _ ,” she continues, ignoring the previous comment, “I’ll pick out some clothes for you and you can give your dirty ones to me and I’m washing them.”

Trixie slaps her thighs. “Have you seen these? Your legs are soooooo skinny, your clothes are never gonna fit me!”

“We’ll work it out,” Katya says as she stands up and then bends down to offer Trixie a hand. “Now let’s get you up.”

 

…

 

Turns out Trixie shares a common annoying habit with Sharon: she, just like her ex-girlfriend, tends to be always right. Not that Katya thinks of Trixie in a girlfriend context, it’s an innocent observation only. Anyway, the point is: when Trixie said nothing would fit her, she was completely right. Katya had left her laying in bed, staring at the human body sketches on her wall while she picked out a sweatshirt and looked for some sweatpants as well. 

“Okay.” She set the clothes on the foot of the bed. “I’m gonna turn around and you can take off your nightie and throw it to me, alright?” She said as she turned. In less than a second, the nightgown flew to her feet and she picked it up, taking it straight to the kitchen, where their washing machine is. There are no laundry services in Alverton and they have no space in the bathroom. Katya uses the seconds while Trixie is changing to check on her phone and see if she has any texts from Adore but there’s nothing, so she goes back to the bedroom and knocks on the door.

“Come in” Trixie sings. And when Katya does, she witnesses the scene worth a million dollars: Trixie, bending over the bed, trying to pick up the pants, wearing nothing but her pink underwear and Katya’s grey ‘Russia’ sweatshirt. She turns to Katya and flops down onto the bed. “They didn’t fit. I think I ripped them a little bit. Sorry.”

Katya blinks once, twice, three times. God, Trixie’s ass is a work of art unlike anything she has ever seen and the fact that Ian was not only enough of an asshole to mistreat her, he was also dumb enough to let that booty go, appalls her in twenty different ways. She’s so thick, Katya could bite into it forever and she has the commitment for that.  

“It’s fine,” she answers weakly, walking to the bed and taking the sweatpants from Trixie’s hand. “Do you feel like going to sleep now?”

Trixie shakes her head. “I will only go to sleep in a room that isn’t spinning.” Her answer is completely serious and Katya just nods, trying not to laugh at it. “Can we just stay up and talk? Like a sleepover, like girls night… Pretty please?”

“Sure. Are you okay with me sitting there with you?” She points to the bed. Trixie nods and Katya climbs on it, rests her back against the wall and crosses her legs. The other girl, who is slightly less drunk but still looks like she can fall off the bed at any given second is also sitting and facing Katya. “So, are you feeling better?”

Bad question. Bad, bad question and she only realizes it after she sees Trixie start to tear up again. The girl shakes her head no. “I should, right? I mean, I do but then I don’t…” She sighs. “I just… First, I feel like I destroyed my future, and that is very true. Then I feel relief. Because I don’t have to deal with him anymore and because I don’t have to worry about my future anymore. Then I feel guilty because I destroyed my future and I’m happy about it. Does this make any sense? I can’t fucking tell anymore.”

“You say a lot of bad words when you’re drunk,” Katya points out and Trixie shrugs. “I just don’t get why you’re so worried about your future… Trixie, let me be very honest with you: had you married that guy, you’d have everything but a life.”

“That’s not true.” She stops and thinks. “Actually, it is. It’s just that I have nothing else, Katya. My family may be the richest family in the whole county, but the only thing I ever had was my future with Ian, the future of my dad’s company joining his dad’s and me becoming the good wife I was born to be, even though that’s not really what I wanted.” 

“What did you want?” Katya asks and she knows the answer is going to break her heart because Trixie’s eyes glimmer with the question. 

“I wanted to be an actress. Or a singer. Or both. I wanted to do Broadway, I wanted to be a star. I feel like I was born to be one. I always thought, when I was younger, that at this point in my life I would have one of those boas that all actresses from the past had and I’d have performed live in front of enough people to fill a small country, and I’d have my own dressing rooms with those mirrors with the lights, you know?” She giggles. “Sounds so child… Childrish… Childli… So much like a kid, but I always thought I could do it. Be a star and live forever. It’s not about the fame, it’s more about… I don’t know, being an icon. Being someone that people look up to. But now I guess I’m just a pathetic, soon-to-be-broke teacher with a drinking problem so cheers to that.”

“You’re so wrong, Trixie! If you don’t think you’re iconic, you are absolutely wrong! Look at all the kids you teach, how much they absolutely adore you… Not only them, but everybody in this town. You’re everyone’s favorite, Barbie. We love you here… Besides, it’s not too late. You can still be an actress and a singer if you want.” Katya adds in, thinking about Trixie’s face lit up by spotlights and the image in her head looks beautiful and right.

“As if I hadn’t thought about it, Katya. How many times I’ve sketched a plan to run away and go be somebody else… But I don’t have the guts. I can’t just do that…” She wipes away the tears from her cheek. Katya hugs her own knees. “I just don’t know what else I can be, you know?”

“Anything, Trixie! You can be anything,” Katya says. Trixie shrugs.

"It’s just… I've been nothing but scared for so long... I forgot how to be anything else. I hate not being scared anymore because it is all I know how to be and it's fucking me up, Katya. What else am I if not scared? A housewife? A mother? What else is out there for me?”How many hours I spent, architecting perfect plans in my head of all I could do when I was free… It seemed very distant, like a dream. And now it’s happening and it fucks me up to know it’s not a dream anymore” Trixie snorts. Katya reaches out to the nightstand, grabs a pack of tissues and hands them to the girl. “Thanks.”

“Can I ask you something?” Katya speaks softly. Trixie nods. “What’s holding you back? I mean, of course, the whole thing happened a few hours ago, but… Why didn’t you immediately just… Run?”

Trixie is still crying. “Because I don’t know how! I’ve been scared for so long… I forgot how to be anything else. And now I don’t know how to deal with not being scared. It’s all I’ve ever known how to be, Katya, and it’s fucking me up. What am I if not scared? What am I if not what everyone always told me to be?”

Katya can’t take this. She kneels and wipes Trixie’s tears away as she sobs. Her heart is heavy because she can feel the pain and confusion intertwined deep in her soul, so deep she can’t even tell they aren’t part of her anymore. “You are strong. You’re independent. You’re free. You’re anything you want to be, Barbie doll…”

They sit there for a moment, looking each other in the eyes, feeling all of the things you could possibly imagine but saying nothing at all. Out of the blue, Trixie launches herself at Katya and the older woman wraps her arms around her. Trixie sobs into her chest, getting Katya’s t-shirt all wet, but she doesn’t mind it. 

“I don’t know how to be any of those things! I don’t even know how to be the things that I’m supposed to be! How can I be a good mother and wife if I can’t be a good mother and wife? How can I be his trophy if I’m merely a consolation prize? That already seems impossible alone, now free? How can I ever be free, Katya?” Trixie yells into her chest. “How can I be anything at all from now on? This is all that I knew how to be, and I didn’t even know  _ how to be that!  _ Am I making any sense?”

“Are you scared? Of like, the future, is that it?” Katya runs her fingers through the blonde’s hair, as she snuggles closer to her and nods. “Trixie, you’re gonna be alright. Your family will listen to you and they will support you… And if they don’t, I will. They love you, Barbie. You have no idea how much your parents love you…” And neither does Katya but she’s great at comforting a crying drunk, isn’t she?

“Are you afraid of anything?” Trixie asks. “I don’t think you are. I think you’re brave and free and nothing ever holds you back.” Oh, if she only knew… 

“I’m actually very afraid. Of many things, really. But that doesn’t mean I’m not brave I guess” she says and Trixie looks up at her.

“How?” She asks, blinking slowly. Now, they are both lying on the bed, but Trixie is still curled up on Katya’s chest like a kitten who’s about to go to sleep.

“Sometimes you can’t wait until you’re brave enough, you just have to do it afraid. And you get tougher from that” Katya explains, caressing Trixie’s head. “Barbie, have I ever told you how I felt about my future when I was your age?”

Trixie shakes her head no and Katya sighs. Okay, she’s really doing this, then. She never thought she’d tell anyone about her past again, especially after the whole rehab thing. It’s just a relief to know that it’s not her present anymore.

“I was a brilliant young grad student in Russia. Actually, I was getting a degree in History of Russian Art” she says and smiles. She still remembers the smell of her apartment in Moscow, the name of her roommates and the subjects she was taking. And she goes on. She tells Trixie about her ex-girlfriend, Alexandra and how they thought they’d be young forever and that nothing would ever break them apart. She told Trixie about when she introduced Alexandra to her parents over dinner and how that ended for them that night. With her heart broken, along with about five dinner plates, they were almost literally kicked out of the house. 

Katya still has nightmares about that night. She still hears her mother’s shouts and feels her father’s fury. The next morning she received the call with the news that she had been cut off. And it never about the money, really, losing the money was just a consequence. It was being thrown out of the family. It was being looked at as an error, a dishonor. It was buying her mother a birthday gift and realizing she wouldn’t be able to give it to her only after she’d wrapped it. 

She kept the gift wrapped in her room until she was thirty. Then one day she just threw it out her window, right before she moved to America. She was hopeful back then. She honestly thought she’d come to find a nice paying job, a good retirement plan and a shitload of hamburgers, but guess what? The degree she had hooked around for over three years to get isn’t worth shit here, in the land of the free. So that meant no job, no retirement plan and no… well, the shitload of hamburgers part was the only thing that really happened. But then she met Ginger and that fat bitch said “I can help you out girl, but do you got any skirt shorter than that?” and Katya just dived back into sex work again.

Being a prostitute in America is definitely different than being a prostitute in Russia. Back in her home country, if she can still call it that, you have to know the right people and be in the right place to avoid getting hit by a bullet or caught by the police. Many times, Katya would be subjected to the sort of shit you see on kinky ass disturbing porn for the price of a softcore. And if she complained, bullet. She could barely make ends meet, even though she worked her ass off, and God I wish this was only a figure of speech. Here, you just have to stand in the corner of a street wearing revealing clothes, wait for the right car to stop and pray it isn’t the police. Her favorite part is that you name your price, a luxury she’s never had before in her life. The guy pays in cash and doesn’t complain - sometimes, if he’s nice, he’ll even let you hit his joint or do a line of his coke or use whatever kind of drug that he has on him. That’s kinda how Katya entered this whole world of drugs. A guy in a BMW picked her up and took her to a somewhat decent hotel and demanded her to take her shirt off so he could do a few lines off her breasts. He then offered her some and, since she knew it was a bad idea to say no to a client, she said yes and stayed awake for three days. She didn’t know it before, but Ginger did coke and meth as well, so that was really just the beginning.

She wasn’t surprised when Ginger died, but she was devastated. Looking back, it feels like it was a sign for her to quit drugs and quit sex work and move on, build a new life for herself instead of falling into the comfort of doing that just because it was the easy way out. She was hopeless and destroyed and if it hadn’t been for Bianca, she would probably have been found dead in a random motel room sooner or later.

She thought, after she came to Alverton, that all of her problems had been solved. She didn’t have to hook around anymore, only strip, but she still charged the men who looked for her services after seeing her on stage, she ain’t no dumb bitch. She found someone who would not only fuck her like she meant it, but would also buy her tampons when she needed and would give her the key to her house. Sharon might not have been the love of her life, but she was exactly what Katya needed back then. She had studied again and had a new degree. At last, she had a good place to live and a roommate who was also her best friend. All of the good things… and her addiction.

She thought it would have gotten better, and it didn’t. So one day, she woke up in a white room wearing clothes that weren’t hers and smelling like hand sanitizer. And she kept waking up in that room until one day she was back and the voice inside her head had grown weak and tired. She didn’t look for Sharon. She didn’t go back to the club. She didn’t talk to Adore, even. The only thing she did was sit down in her room and wonder how she could have let herself come to that point and why did she feel like it was wrong not to go back. It was a weird sensation, knowing it was over and wanting it not to be. 

And now here she is. A graduated teacher at a high school, with a decent place to live, maintaining healthy relationships with her friends, or as she likes to call them, her family. Way better than the last one, anyway. 

“It’s not always easy, but it’s doable,” she tells Trixie. “The worst part is over. Literally, no matter what comes after this, I’ve been through the worst already, I’ve been through hell and I kept going. And I really want you to realize that too. Because when I was your age, twenty-seven years old, I was living in the back of a brothel, sucking dick so I  could eat lunch and I never knew if I was gonna come back alive so I always left my mattress empty because someone else might wanna sleep there. And I thought it couldn’t get worse, but it did. And I lived through that too.”

“I feel… like a little bitch now” Trixie responds. “I feel like it’s stupid to worry about this because it’s not half of a problem like yours” she shrugs.

“You don’t have to put yourself down. You’re strong and all this shit you’ve been through… I don’t know if I would’ve made it” Katya says as she squeezes Trixie tighter, reassuring.

“I’m not really that strong… I’m just eg… exu… very tired. Sick, actually,” she says and sits up. “I am so sick of this roller coaster of emotions. I am sick of walking on eggshells just hoping he is in a good mood. Hoping nothing stresses him out. I am sick of feeling like I am nothing. I don’t even feel like I can think for myself anymore. I am thinking for him and what I think he would want,” she starts crying again and Katya makes a mental note not to give Trixie any more wine, ever.  “When he is upset with me and I know it but I haven’t seen him yet, I spend the whole day trembling and shaking and not knowing where to go! I am a chicken with her head cut off!” She finally screams, but this time she isn’t sad. She’s furious. 

“Girl, let it out,” Katya says, not wanting to interrupt Trixie. It’s her moment now. She has got all of this stuck in her throat for fuck knows how long, if she doesn’t let it out soon, she’s gonna explode. 

“I am sick of everything about him. I am sick of everything I’ve become because of him,” she continues yelling and crying. Katya can almost taste the relief in her voice. “I’m sorry if this isn’t very Christian of me, but right now I can’t fucking care less. I want him to feel what he’s done to me on his own skin, I want him too to sit for hours and cry thinking about the life he’s never going to have. I want him to go through the same hell that I did, but I don’t want him to get out, I want him to rot and burn. What you gonna do about that, Jesus?” She yells at the ceiling, rising on her knees. “Punish me for my sinful thoughts? Send  _ me _ to hell instead? Well, try fucking harder!”

Trixie sits back on her ankles and puts her hands on her face as she starts sobbing. Katya crawls over to her and hugs her tight, rubbing her back and repeating “you’re okay, Barbie” and  “everything is going to be just fine” in her ear, even though she’s pretty sure the other girl can’t hear her. What a pretty mess they’ve made. 

She pulls away from Trixie and somehow her body misses the warmth right away. For what seems like the hundredth time tonight, she places her hands on both sides of the girl’s face and uses her thumbs to wipe the tears. Trixie breathes in deeply and is still looking down a little, so when she looks at Katya’s face, right into her eyes, the older woman has to lift herself a bit to plant a soft, caring kiss on her forehead, only to embrace her tightly again. 

“I promise you that you’re never going to feel this way again,” she tells Barbie, who snuggles her neck. “You’re too delightful for this kind of misery.”

 

…

 

Trixie starts to feel sleepy at around three in the morning and Katya has never been so thankful to see an adult person struggle to keep their eyes open. The girl’s already gone into that state where she’s talking nonsense and blinking slowly, so Katya continues to hold her close and caress her head in order to make her fall asleep faster so she can finally go have her crisis about whatever the hell it is that is going on tonight.

Un-fucking-believable. Leave those two alone for a couple of seconds and they go into this weird thing of not realizing the rest of the world still exists.

“Do you know what’s hard?” Trixie asks, eyes closed and looking as peaceful as one can. “Liking dick when I’m around you.”

Well, Katya was surely not expecting that, and you can tell by the blush on her cheeks. She should record this and keep it for whenever she’s in a bad mood. “What?” Is the only thing she manages to say.

“You know, I like dick. But sometimes I think of you and I have to remind myself of it” she replies, naturally, as if it were nothing. Katya loves drunk Trixie, even though she makes her red as a pepper. 

“What do you mean, Trixie? Are you… Trying to say something?” Katya asks, checking if the girl has opened her eyes yet, but she hasn’t, she’s only taking a deep breath.

“Can I tell you a secret?” She asks, and finally peeks her eyes open. Katya nods. “When I was in college I slept with a few girls… But I’m not a lesbian. I love dick.”

“You don’t have to be a lesbian” Katya laughs. Trixie is  _ one of those girls _ , apparently. The ones who experiment around in college after spending twenty years believing they were straight and that looking at your classmates’ boobs after gym class was normal and everyone else did it too. “You can be into both women and men, you know.”

Trixie’s eyes perk up. “Can I really? Is that a thing?”

“Of course, just like Adore. She is both into guys and girls. She’s bisexual” Katya explains. Why does she keep getting the recurring feeling that she’s talking to a child? An overgrown, drunk, pissed off child but still…

“I don’t like that name” Trixie frowns. “I like the idea, but I don’t like the name.”

“That’s fine. You don’t need to put a label on what you like, you don’t have to call it anything” how many times has Katya gone through this conversation? Too many times. With herself or other girls, just too many damn times. 

“There’s only one name to what I like,” she says and rolls over so that now she’s on top of Katya. From sleepy to kinky in 2.5 seconds, a handbook by Trixie Mattel she pictures. For a solid amount of time, Katya really thinks she is going to say her name and braces herself, tries her hardest to control her impulse and not grab Trixie by the waist, but it gets harder as the girl lowers her face closer to hers.

“Jesus” Trixie whispers in her ear. What a way to break the mood. “The thing I like is Jesus and he does not like it when I say this kind of thing. So that’s why I love dick and dick only” she then falls back to Katya’s side and snuggles up next to her. 

She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Both sound great right now. If she were a man, her boner would have failed her now. 

“Why do you think Jesus isn’t going to love you if you’re into girls too?” Katya asks. 

“I don’t know,” Trixie shrugs. “I just don’t feel like anyone would love me at all… Whether I like boys or girls. Ian loved me. I don’t know if anyone else is ever going to do that again.”

Katya’s heart is shattered, again. How can such a sweet girl say so many bitter words about herself? “See, now that’s what he wants you to think,” Katya tells her. “But it’s not true. I don’t think he ever loved you, Barbie, I don’t think a man like him can ever love anything or anyone at all.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Don’t you believe me?” Katya turns to look at Trixie’s face. “Trixie! You were beautiful before he ever told you that you were. You are bright even though he’s told you that you’re not. And he may say no one else will ever love you, but that’s a lie too. You’re so loveable!”

“Maybe that’s just your opinion. You think that because you  _ like _ me” she smiles. Katya turns to her side and no her whole body is facing Trixie. 

“I do, though. I think you’re the single most brilliant, the most beautiful, the wittiest person that I know.” She strokes Trixie’s face softly. “You’re a dedicated teacher, superb role model and I swear to whatever God-like entity you prefer that you can make any person smile. And people are just naturally drawn to you, because you… It’s almost like you shine through, I don’t know. And it fucks me up that you’re not aware of it because it’s such a waste!”

There is silence until Trixie speaks up. “I wish I could talk to myself like you talk about me.”

Katya smiles at her. “You’ll get there, Barbie doll.” Trixie closes her eyes again. “Do you think you’re ready to go to sleep?”

“As soon as the room stops spinning, yes” she answers. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Another one? What is it now? She’s been a brunette all along and this is a wig? She never really liked pink? Her favorite drink is not an iced vanilla coffee? Katya doesn’t know what to expect anymore. Apprehensively, she answers “sure.”

Trixie then looks around as if to check they’re alone, which does nothing but freak Katya out even though she knows it’s just drunk sense of humor (well tell that to her paranoia) and then leans in closer. “I love Jesus Christ, but I worship Dolly Parton.”

“Sure, honey” Katya answers. “You sure do…” she says and laughs, lying on her back again. This woman. She does things to Katya that Katya doesn’t think she’s ever fucking felt before. 

She keeps caressing Trixie’s hair until she looks to the side and sees the girl is now fast asleep. Katya hesitates a bit but plants a kiss on her head before standing up and walking quietly to the balcony. If she doesn’t have a cigarette  _ now _ , she doesn’t know what will be of her. 

 

...

 

It’s five in the morning. Katya is lying on her bed with fresh pajamas on, and by that I mean she’s wearing another ugly, large t-shirt with some gym shorts underneath, watching the sun rise from her window and observing the light as it reaches the face of the beautiful girl that is lying practically naked next to her. 

At some point, while Katya was washing and drying their clothes and cleaning the bathroom, Trixie took the sweatshirt off and threw it on the floor, so you can say it was a bit of a surprise for Katya to walk back into the room to check on her and find her lying there in nothing but expensive looking silk underwear. She took another cover from her wardrobe and placed it over her, all while feeling like a fucking ravisher for staring at her boobs a little too long, but God they’re huge. 

And now here she is. Lying next to this girl, watching as the first rays of light touch her face and wondering if she’s ever seen anything as beautiful as her in this very moment when she isn’t trying. It’s raw beauty. It’s her, doing nothing but existing in this world and yet taking Katya’s breath away and making her heart pound faster. She hasn’t felt this way since she stopped doing coke.

Seriously. Trixie Mattel is so purely beautiful it makes Katya feel like she’s high again, just by looking at her. And it’s not just the beauty of her it’s… the whole set. The way she makes sense of herself, how she is… God. She looks the way she looks because of the way she is. Her wit takes about as much space as her hips, her voice is as sweet as the pink in her cheeks, she floats as she walks just like her silky long hair and her laugh is electric like the blue in her eyes. Katya’s never met anyone else who makes so much sense like Trixie does and that worries her, because she knows she would have if she paid more attention to other people. See, she’s realizing now that she’s in trouble. 

Katya’s so used to her heart beating faster around Trixie, her mind wandering back to her sweet, sweet smile or her infamous thighs, thinking about how soft her kiss would be with those enormous lips she has and wondering about the softness of her skin that she doesn’t realize that other girls exist right now. And the last time this happened, a girl called Alexandra had snatched her heart, but we all know who well that ended. 

She doesn’t  _ love _ Trixie. But she loves the idea of doing so. She loves the rush in her stomach every time she sees her, she loves the way she can smell her perfume even when she’s not around, she loves having someone to look forward to every day. Also, she loves the feeling of letting herself fall for someone who is so oblivious of her growing obsession, and she doesn’t care, she’ll probably just tell Trixie how gorgeous she looks when she’s tearing her heart apart. 

Katya is no stranger to shutting people out. Look at Sharon, for fuck’s sake. They were together for almost a year and even when her tough-ass girlfriend was a mess of I love yous and never let me gos, Katya was still just smiling and kissing her so she wouldn’t have to answer. It’s not like her one night stands hadn’t tried either. When they messaged the next morning, she’d text back something like “hey, this is Cory, I think you have the wrong number”. And that’s because she doesn’t remember how it is that you love a person, or anything remotely close to that. 

It feels like something she’s gonna fail at, and thank God for her anxiety, or else she’d think she could do it and fuck it up on a greater scale. Katya doesn’t know how can a person just look at another and decide “that’s it, that’s you” and try to convince said person that it’s a good idea. She feels it would drain the life out of her to even remotely try to do that, the effort that it is to keep convincing someone day after day that it is a good idea to be around her, or the contrary, trying to convince herself that it’s a good idea to stick around. She doesn’t like arguments, she doesn’t like responsibilities, she doesn’t like remembering anniversaries… Basically, she doesn’t like anything that could ever be part of a relationship because it feels forced and she already has a job, she doesn’t need another one. 

Then comes Trixie with her snob ass and nasty attitude towards Katya and there’s a playful hate game in that, but the second she sees Trixie without her Barbie Alverton mask and without her own thirst for revenge over RuPaul, the moment they let each other be vulnerable… It just clicks. And that’s it. Katya doesn’t feel like it’s an effort at all to try to make this gorgeous blonde girl, she takes it as an obligation because she doesn’t think she can live peacefully in a world where Trixie Mattel is anything less than absolutely overjoyed. 

It’s weird to think about this but… Trixie is so easy to love. She only has to exist and that’s enough for Katya to be all up on her, craving her touch and attention. And, fuck, she wants to love her so bad. I mean, obviously she has feelings for her, as well as _ feelings _ , but once it grows into love it’s going to be so divine she won’t be able to help herself around her, she’ll ache for her lips upon hers and their hands intertwined as they lie in bed and still taste like each other, she’ll die to see her smile and hear her laugh and she’d give up her entire life if it meant being with her until the day she dies. But she’s not there yet. And when she is, she hopes Trixie will be there too. 

Katya doesn’t believe in God, but she’s beyond convinced the girl lying next to her, with the sun reflecting on her skin, is nothing less than holy. And as she watches over the radiant girl breathing heavily next to her, she drifts to sleep feeling heavenly. Not once that night did she notice Trixie had been wearing her lace pink stockings, and if she did, she chose to ignore it (even though she thought she couldn’t). She dreams about weird looking birds and doesn’t hear it when Adore gets home and slams the door. She doesn’t want this moment to end. 

  
  



	7. Part 3 - lonely if onlys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** IMPORTANT ***  
> This chapter contains descriptions of abuse, such as verbal violence.
> 
> What is up my people, here is chapter 7! It's pretty short if you compare it with the last one, but that's just the way things are. Thank you so much for the amazing comments, you are all too precious for this world <3 Come stalk me on my [tumblr](http://highonbrunost.tumblr.com/), I swear I'm nice. At least I think I'm nice. Oh well.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it and thank you so much for being awesome!

When Trixie wakes up the next day and struggles to open her eyes, she recognizes three signs that she’s had a bad night and is bound to have an even worse day.

One, she doesn’t know what day or what time it is because her alarm didn’t go off, which means she doesn’t have her phone anywhere around her. That’s already two different problems: she’s probably late to something, which is  _ bad _ because she is lost in time and space and also that she either lost her phone or someone stole it. No better way to go here.

Two, her head is about to explode. Which means that she has been drinking and Trixie is not a heavy drinker unless she’s frustrated, upset or it’s Friday night. How many more times will she empty bottles of wine in one sitting even though she knows that the morning afters are always chaos? That’s always a bad choice, but apparently she refuses to learn her goddamn lesson.

Three, she doesn’t recognize the room she’s in  _ and _ she’s naked, save for her panties.

She never knew there was a fourth sign, but she learns it right then and there when she realizes there is a blonde woman sleeping next to her, and when I say next, I mean close enough that her arm is swung over Trixie’s stomach and her legs intertwined with her own. 

And that woman is Katya.

Oh, no. Nopety nope. This can’t have happened. Trixie is a  _ straight _ woman who is about to get married, how could she do this? Oh Lord no. She’s a cheater. She cheated on Ian with  _ Katya _ , and she has no idea how it happened. She’s starting to panic and hyperventilate as her eyes water. She sits up, holding the blanket to cover her chest with one hand and placing the other one in front of her mouth so she doesn’t wake Katya up.

She doesn’t want to cry because she’s a cheater or because she slept with a woman in spite of her obvious straightness. She wants to cry because for the first time in so, so long she has let herself go and lost control of a situation. And she can deal with morality issues and sexual discoveries, but she can’t deal with not being in control a hundred percent of the time. See, this is what happens when she doesn’t have full control of a situation: cheating, sins, and regret. How could she do this? What the hell happened to her?

Katya moves a little closer to her and hugs her hip. This is  _ bad. _ She needs to get out right now before her coworker wakes up. How could she let this happen? How… No, there is no time for questions and self-pity, she needs to get out of here right now before she goes insane.

Slowly, very carefully, she takes Katya’s arm and places it by her side. The Russian seems not to like it and snuggles closer, moving her legs a little. Well, who would ever say that the most annoying, outspoken and unapologetic badass bitch that Trixie knows actually loves cuddling? How adorable. How…  _ unhelpful.  _ Okay, breathe in, breathe out. With the smoothest movements she never thought she could do while hungover, she manages to get up and tiptoe around the room until she finds… I don’t know,  _ something _ .

She never finds her phone, which makes her worry a little more about what might’ve happened to it, but she does find clothes that belong to her. A nightgown and a robe - not ideal, but certainly useful. She sighs as she tries to architect a plan on how the hell can she go home wearing those, and the thought of how the hell did she even get here in those terrorizes her enough that she looks down in embarrassment and sees a sweatshirt on the floor. She has an idea.

 

…

 

The sweatshirt fits, but only barely - her breasts are so big it almost looks like a crop top. The sweatpants that she found to pair with it were a two minute struggle to get on and she can’t move very fast or abruptly or else they’ll rip at her butt and it’s not gonna be cute. How pathetic. Trixie Mattel, the princess of Alverton herself, walking around the streets with her legs straight so she won’t rip her pants, carrying last night’s clothes on her arms and hungover enough to pass out again. Not what she’d expect for a Sunday morning. 

People wave at her on the street and she waves back and smiles as if nothing happened. She gets home almost an hour later due to how slow she has to walk and as she opens the door, she barely even recognizes her living room. It’s a mess! There’s wine bottles laying around, cushions thrown everywhere and a towel in the middle of the way. What even happened here last night? God!

She walks around picking up the cushions and the wine bottles, then walks into the bathroom to try and find an aspirin to calm her headache down. She gasps when she finds one more empty bottle and the bathtub still full of water. There is a lot of cleaning to be done today, then. Trixie feels like doing anything but cleaning. 

Well, she thinks to herself, I am in the most indecent situation in my adult life yet. I deserve a break. And so instead of emptying the tub and picking up the wine bottles from the floor, she strolls back into the living room and throws herself on the couch, only to feel something poking her in the back and there she finds her phone.

The first thing Trixie does is check the time, only to find out that it’s one in the afternoon. She missed brunch by a few hours. That would explain the total of 87 missed calls from Ian, his mother, her mother, her father, and her parents’ housemaid Lourdes on her phone. There are also about 200 text messages and she doesn’t think she’s ready for this. Breathe in, breathe out. Trixie’s hand is shaking, but she manages to call her mother and hope for the best.

“Mom? Hi, it’s me,” she says and her voice is just as shaky as her hands.

“Beatrix! Thank God!” She hears her mother shouting away from the phone, “Arthur! It’s her, she’s calling me,” and then turning to the speaker one more time. “Where in God’s name have you been, honey? We were so worried! We were almost filing you as a missing person!”

“I was at a friend’s” she answers. Her heart is beating too fast. It feels wrong to call Katya her friend.

“What friend? You never tell us about anyone, Beatrix!” Her mother sighs. Of course, she never tells them about her friends, she doesn’t have any. She isn’t allowed to have any. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Why were you gone so long? Carol says Ian left your house early…” 

“We had a bit of a fight last night… and, uh…” And I drank until I blacked out and woke up naked next to another woman doesn’t sound like the appropriate thing to say, Trixie thinks. “I went over to Katya’s. Spent the night there and forgot to charge my phone. Sorry.”

“Oh, honey, you can’t scare us like this! Or miss brunch! Carol was terrified thinking something happened to you” the woman on the line says. “She’s worried about Ian. He didn’t show up for brunch either, but he said he wasn’t coming. Also, I think you owe him an apology.”

“Maybe I do…” Trixie says and closes her eyes. She just wanted to let her mom know she was alright and now she’s stuck talking about Ian. Great. 

“I’m sure you didn’t mean what you said, honey. I mean, you can’t break up now, there are only a few months to the wedding” her mother sounds concerned and lets out a nervous laugh. Trixie furrows her brow. 

“C-could you repeat it, please? I don’t… I didn’t hear you.” She can’t have heard it right. No, she didn’t. It’s illogical. 

Her mother sighs. “I said there’s no use for a break up now, it’s too close to your wedding! And I think you should swallow your pride and apologize to him. You didn’t really mean that.”

Trixie drops the phone, it falls to the ground and shatters the screen. It feels like a trigger to her brain, her mother said the words “break up” and suddenly she had it all inside her mind. The yelling, the slapping, the spitting, oh Lord. No. No, no, no. This is all a nightmare. None of this is happening. She couldn’t have done this, she knows what it means for her future. She  _ needs  _ Ian. She can’t picture herself without him and unfortunately, she doesn’t mean any of this in a loving way. She means it in a “this is my only chance to have a good future” way. He is her only guarantee.

He  _ was _ her only guarantee. Oh, Lord. She needs to figure something out, and she needs to do it fast. She picks her phone up and mumbles a goodbye to her mother, opens her text messages and starts typing furiously. 

 

**Ian, darling, I’m so sorry for last night… I wasn’t thinking!**

 

But before she hits send, she peeks to the last text he sent her. And suddenly she isn’t breathing very well and her eyes are watering. She can’t believe she’s doing this, but she scrolls all the way to the top and decides to read all the texts he sent her. 

 

**From: Ian <3**

**You shouldn’t have done this.**

**From: Ian <3**

**You’re gonna regret this. How dumb are you, Trixie?**

**From: Ian <3**

**Stupid whore.**

**From: Ian <3**

**I’ll ruin you**

**From: Ian <3**

**Trixie I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that**

**From: Ian <3**

**You know how I get when you upset me**

**From: Ian <3**

**I don’t always mean what I say, I’m just upset**

**From: Ian <3**

**I know you didn’t mean it either**

**From: Ian <3**

**I know you love me**

**From: Ian <3**

**Let’s talk about this, come over and we’ll talk and it’ll get better**

**From: Ian <3**

**Please come, I need to see you**

**From: Ian <3**

**Why are you ignoring me?**

**From: Ian <3**

**Don’t be so cold. I love you.**

**From: Ian <3**

**Trixie, stop ignoring me**

**From: Ian <3**

**See, this is why our relationship is broken**

**From: Ian <3**

**Because you act like a bitch and then you can’t take the consequences**

**From: Ian <3**

**Hide, ignore me as much as you want**

**From: Ian <3**

**I know the truth, I know you do these things to hurt me**

**From: Ian <3**

**To hurt my dignity**

**From: Ian <3**

**Then you crawl back into this little victim hole**

**From: Ian <3**

**Well, this is all your fault**

**From: Ian <3**

**You do things being very aware that I don’t like them**

**From: Ian <3**

**You provoke me**

**From: Ian <3**

**You cunt**

**From: Ian <3**

**You push me to the limit and then I snap**

**From: Ian <3 **

**And then I’m the villain**

**From: Ian <3 **

**Because you can’t keep your mouth shut, most of the time**

**From: Ian <3**

**You don’t know who you’re messing with, Trixie**

**From: Ian <3**

**You’re gonna regret this**

**From: Ian <3**

**I’m gonna make you regret every second of it**

**From: Ian <3**

**You’ll see it**

**From: Ian <3**

**STOP IGNORING ME**

**From: Ian <3**

**SNAKE, CUNT, WHORE**

**From: Ian <3**

**YOU CAN BREAK UP WITH ME BUT YOU’RE NEVER GONNA FIND ANYONE ELSE TO LOVE YOU**

**From: Ian <3**

**YOU’RE DISGUSTING**

**From: Ian <3**

**I LOVE YOU TRIXIE**

**From: Ian <3**

**WHY DON’T YOU STOP BEING SO FUCKING MANIPULATIVE AND FAKE AND COME BACK TO ME**

**From: Ian <3**

**NOBODY ELSE IS EVER GOING TO LOVE YOU, EVER**

**From: Ian <3**

**I ONLY PUT UP WITH YOU BECAUSE I PITY YOU**

**From: Ian <3**

**WITHOUT ME YOU’RE NOTHING**

**From: Ian <3**

**YOU CAN PRETEND AS MUCH AS YOU WANT BUT YOU KNOW IT’S THE TRUTH, I’M THE ONLY FUTURE OUT THERE FOR YOU, YOU ARE NOTHING**

 

Trixie doesn’t send the text. Instead, she makes sure to lock her door and check if her spare key is with her, because if she left it with Ian, he might come look for her and that’s the last thing she needs right now. Unfortunately, she doesn’t find it and in a spur of panic she calls her mother again and asks to spend the night over. She packs a night bag in fifteen minutes and leaves trying not to think of it. 

There will be a lot of questions. Trixie is finally going to give them some answers.

 

...

 

“Trixie, we need to talk.” Katya is leaning against the stage holding two cups of coffee. Oh, great. That’s just the thing she needed after spending the whole night crying under the covers after telling her parents about the shit she has been put through for the past few years. That must have been the single most stressful thing she has ever done in her whole entire life. 

Her parent’s faces will be forever burned in her mind. The shock. The disbelief as she showed them the texts. Trixie had never seen her father look sad before, never in her life. And she had never seen her mother look angry, at least never this angry. They all cried and they hugged her and she heard her mother ask if she would ever forgive them for letting her go through that alone for so long. 

See, this is the outcome she never imagined. Her parents were so stuck in the idea of her marrying Ian and continuing their conjoined business legacy that it never occurred to her that they actually love her for who she is and will stay by her side because she is their daughter before she is anything else. And she never felt so loved before. 

Her father, Mr. Arthur Mattel, hugged her and told her as he kissed her head that he would call Ian’s father second thing in the morning to clarify that their engagement is over and she will never have to worry about talking to him or about him ever again. The first thing he’d do would be calling the locksmith to change the door lock at Trixie’s place. 

“What I just don’t understand Beatrix is why it took you so long to come to us,” he told her. “It didn’t have to get this bad. You are our baby girl, our only daughter. We will always support you, no matter what.”

“I was scared because I would ruin my future and the future of your business, I’m sorry,” she told him, her head pressed against his chest while her mother rubbed her back. 

“Honey,” she said, “we’re sorry we made you afraid to come clean to us about it. You seemed excited about the plans we were making, business-wise, so that’s why we talked about it so much. You don’t have to worry about this for now.”

“What Ian did to you was wrong, sweetheart. It was a crime, as a matter of fact. We can get him arrested for it”, her father said calmly. “And don’t you give me this look, Dolores, you know it’s true.”

“Can we not talk about this anymore?” Trixie asked, wiping her tears and pulling away from her parents. “It’s just… It’s a lot.”

“Of course honey,” her mother said. “I’ll tell you this, why don’t you go upstairs and take a nice hot shower, slip into something…” her mother looked at her sweatshirt based outfit, “more comfortable and then we’ll drink some tea in the living room as we watch that movie you like, Meet Me In St. Louis, how does that sound?”

Trixie nodded. “Sounds perfect. Thank you guys.”

“We love you, honey,” her mother says. “Never forget that.”

When Trixie finally got out of bed today, she found a little note on the fridge with a therapist’s number written on it. She took five deep breaths before shoving it inside her purse and leaving the house. 

She already broke up with Ian. She already told her parents about all the shit that she’s been through.The worst part is over. She knows that. But deep inside, she doesn’t think she’s realized it yet because her heart is still shattered and she’s still very scared. So when Katya comes up to her, and she feels like she’s gonna demand something from her, she freaks out again.

“No, we don’t. The only thing we need to talk about the costs of our costumes and how to build a chandelier prop,” she answers, avoiding the Russian’s eyes. 

Katya sighs. “No, this is  _ serious,  _ Trixie. We have to talk about what happened on Saturday.”

“What happened on Saturday?” asks Sharon, walking into the auditorium with her black coffee cup and dark eye makeup. Why does she always hear heels higher than Trixie’s? That is a direct attack to her femininity. In fact, why do the three of them always wear heels? God, it’s almost like they have to prove that they’re women with all that makeup and tall shoes. How weird.

“Nothing happened on Saturday. And you’re not even supposed to be here right now” Trixie answers. “The kids are arriving in two minutes, what is it Sharon?”

“Well, come bite me, Ms. Mattel, what is up with you today?” Sharon furrows her brow and sits next to her on the front row. 

“What is up with me is that we still haven’t decided what to do about the fabric we need to buy for the costumes or how we’ll make that chandelier prop,” she answers and the bell rings. She looks over at Katya, whose eyes aren’t as bright as they usually are. Trixie looks down and breathes deep. She’s still a cheater. She can’t look at Katya without thinking about what happened and now she’ll always remind her of the one thing she promised herself she would never do, and that is to go against her personal and moral belief. It doesn’t matter if Ian was a bad partner or even a bad person. It’s not about him. What matters is that Trixie acted against her own ideals and that can’t be forgiven. 

The bad part is that seeing Katya like this makes her feel even worse. Something about her is like a magnet to Trixie and she can’t ignore it, but she has to. Right now, she needs to focus on herself. She needs to remember who she was before Ian told her, she needs to rebuild her life, she needs to make friends and change the pictures in her frames. She needs a fresh start. And Katya was part of the end of something she wants to forget. She can’t bear look at her without being reminded of it. And she can’t bear that either. 

So rehearsal goes by and she doesn’t look in the direction of the woman who makes her heart beat faster, she pretends her raspy voice, with that strong accent, doesn’t make her breath fall short and she ignores the ache to be closer to her at this very second. When it’s over, Trixie feels Katya’s fingertips brush on her shoulder, trying to get her attention, but she ignores it. She walks away and leaves Katya behind. 

Telling her parents about Ian might have been the most stressful thing she’s ever done, but pulling herself away from Katya on purpose is undoubtedly the hardest. She knows the worst part is over, but then why is her heart still in pain? Why does she feel like there should be something more? Ugh. She breathes in and out.

Guess this is what it feels like to start over. She just needs something a little more… bold to get her mind back on track. 

  
  



	8. Part 3 - lonely if onlys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, I had an update schedule, but then it all went to hell and now I just update whenever I can. Sorry about that. But hey, here's the new chapter! I didn't get this through my beta because I wanted to update asap, so if there are any mistakes you'd like me to fix please hit me up!
> 
> Come yell at me for being late [@highonbrunost](http://highonbrunost.tumblr.com/). I won't cry too much. I don't think I will, at least.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for being patient and kind! I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoy writing it. <3

Katya hasn’t had it easy since _the incident_. It’s been about two weeks now, but could easily have been two decades. She hasn’t slept well, she hasn’t eaten well and she hasn’t even smoked as much because all of her thoughts have been consuming her, and all of them have been about Trixie and whatever the fuck is going on between them now.

When she woke up to an empty bed that afternoon, her heart sunk with the familiar feeling of, well not abandonment, but of never having anyone there in the first place. She tried to text, she tried to call and she even tried to email the Barbie doll, but nothing seemed to reach her. And she told Adore everything, every single detail of that night, but it was hard to believe because no evidence that Trixie had ever been to their apartment existed. How can such a flamboyant drunk woman come and go like a ghost?

“Dude,” Adore said, “can’t wait to see what your Monday’s gonna be like. Good luck.”

Good luck indeed. Katya is in some deep trouble. She’s been thinking about Trixie’s smile a lot, even more than she did before. How she smiled as they talked about Broadway and feather boas, or when she made that joke about being loose again. It pains her because she realizes now that those were genuine smiles, crinkle under the eyes and everything, which means most of the other times she’d seen Trixie smile she didn’t mean it. A bubbly girl with an alcohol problem and a thing for people she shouldn’t even talk to. The prettiest, best-hidden mess Katya has ever seen in her entire life.

And what a mess she was, and yet, curiously enough, Katya has never seen anyone look so lovely as they cried on a bathroom floor. She has never seen anyone look so pure as they laughed at their own jokes. She has never seen anyone look so peaceful in their sleep or felt more at peace as she fell asleep next to them. Oh, fuck, she’s in deep, deep trouble.

At least, she thinks, we didn’t fuck. It’s not like she didn’t want to, she’d die to have Trixie’s thighs to the sides of her head as she screamed Katya’s name over and over, but it’s not right to have sex with someone who isn’t sober enough to tell you exactly what they want you to do to them, and Trixie was way past that point. She’s not talking _oh, I’m at the club and I’ve had like three vodka shots_ drunk, she’s talking about _I just dumped my abusive ex-boyfriend and probably ruined the rest of my life and also I think I have a huge lesbian crush on the coworker I thought I hated but it may be just sexual tension and maybe I don’t even recognize who I am anymore oh look bubbles_ drunk.

Drunk people never know what they’re talking about, it doesn’t matter how many times she hears “drunk words are sober thoughts”, well guess what Brenda, that’s bullshit, unless you think a lot about “cauliflowers, but like… with glitter on them” when you’re sober. Katya doesn’t trust herself near a beautiful woman, but when that beautiful woman can’t stand on her own two feet, it doesn’t matter how Katya feels about her, what matters is that she can’t assume the girl knows what they’re getting into when she says yes to something. It’s not consent if you don’t know what you’re saying yes to.

But the problem is, she thinks again, Trixie doesn’t know that. She doesn’t know Katya would never fuck anyone who can’t say a proper yes, she might not even think that doing so is a predatory act since she has no real notion of what a healthy relationship looks like. And she also doesn’t know that nothing happened between them. Nothing sexual at least.

So, Katya figures, her obliviousness is the reason why she has completely shut her out since _the incident_. Trixie turns around whenever Katya looks at her, she isn’t arriving early anymore only to avoid them being alone together and she hasn’t even opened any of Katya’s texts. They have barely looked into each other’s eyes, let alone established decent communication. It’s been all about that one kid in the back who is too slow on choreography, Laila needing to get better at following the rhythm of the songs and, on one specific occasion, “did Ryan just draw a penis on that?”

But then, one day, Katya has enough of it. She wakes up in a bad mood, spills her coffee all over the kitchen tiles and doesn’t find her nice work heels anywhere and so she has to leave the house wearing her winter boots and they stink like skunks. Oh, so maybe that’s what they’re made of. She should probably throw them away already, they’ve sure been in her closet for longer than they’ve deserved. She drives to school running all the red lights, smokes on the parking lot and stomps inside the auditorium, ready to knock a bitch out.

She’s had it, officially. Katya is already having trouble to deal with her feelings when Trixie isn’t being an absolute bitch, so this isn’t helping. All the effort she makes to get the girl’s attention goes to waste, all the sentences she rehearses in her head and doesn’t get to say, all the times she blushes when she says something and her only response is silence. No more of this. She is talking to Trixie today, whether she likes it or not.

But then of course, as soon as she walks into the building she is graced with the most peculiar vision ever and even forgets she was mad in the first place. Standing by the stage, fixing some papers, is a woman wearing a tight pencil skirt and some nice looking heels as well. Okay, you may think, what’s so funny about that to Katya?

Well, my friend, it’s hilarious for her because she’d recognize that butt anywhere, and it looks a lot like Trixie’s. Not that Katya spends too much time looking at Trixie’s butt or… Oh, screw that, she’s over this, she’d recognize that butt if it were a mile away, the only thing she does all day is thinking about it and trying hard not to get wet while doing so. She sometimes fails. Anyway, what really matters is that it simply can’t be Trixie. This girl’s brown hair barely even reaches her shoulders, and Trixie’s trademark is her big ass Barbie doll hair: long, blonde, flowy and smelling of expensive shampoo.

Before she excuses herself to go talk to the Butt Twin, she hears Sharon cackle when she comes closer to the girl. “Well, well, well,” she says, looking up from her usual black coffee cup. “Looks like someone switched shampoo bottles...”

When she turns to face Sharon, Katya almost passes out. Trixie. The girl is Trixie, but her Barbie doll hair is gone. How very dare her. There are still some small curls and waves along the strands, but it wasn’t flowy and fun anymore, though it wasn’t tame either.  Any other person with this exact same haircut would look like they’re on their third divorce and just realized that having babies to try and keep their man was a mistake because now they have five little morons running around the house, but not Trixie. Trixie looks like she’s just buried that third husband and is about to go shopping with whatever he left her, wearing the shit she bought with what the other two had already left. It’s a statement. It’s her own way of telling the world she owns herself and Katya bets if Ian saw that he would shit himself right then and there. Trixie looks empowered and gorgeous. Good Lord, this is going to be the death of Katya.

And talking about statements, Trixie’s face is painted not only for the back row but for the people at the Denny’s down the street too. Of course Trixie has always worn makeup, Katya’s pretty sure she’s the kind of girl that won’t let other people see her without at least some concealer under her eyes and some gloss on her lips, but this goes beyond anything she could have ever imagined. It’s still the same makeup she wears every day, but with the volume turned up. Her soft pink lips today look slightly bigger than Katya knows they are, her cheeks are carved out in brown and her eyelashes look twice as big as they usually do, both top and bottom, not to mention her winged eyeliner, that follows a thick line across her crease. She looks like a clown, but in a good way. She’d make a pretty clown, Katya thinks. But then again, she’d make a pretty anything.

Trixie smiles and blushes a little. “Thank you. Thought some change would do me good.”

“You do look great Trixie,” Katya joins in the conversation and Trixie suddenly stops smiling. She doesn’t look at Katya, but instead, she just finishes fixing the papers she needs for the day.

“We should get ourselves together, the kids are already coming in.” She walks past Katya just as if she were a wall and sits on the middle of the front row. Katya moves and tries to sit next to her but Trixie places her bag on the seat she intended to take. She gets the message and sits two seats away from the most intimidating piece of pink leather she has ever met.

Sharon sits next to her and clears her throat. “I think by now it’s obvious there’s something up with the two of you,” she whispers, “and you better apologize. This mood between you guys is driving everyone insane and even the students can fucking tell. Go apologize.”

“You have nothing to do with what is going on here, okay? You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Katya whispers back between greeting students.

“Well I may not know what I’m talking about, but I know you and that’s enough for me.” Sharon sips quietly and stares at Katya. “I know your intentions aren’t bad, but it doesn’t mean the things you do aren’t, Ms. I was gone for two weeks without telling my girlfriend.”

“Okay, you really are making this way bigger than it has to be.” Katya sighs. “That was awful of me and no matter how many times I apologize I know it’ll never be enough…”

“True,” Sharon says and Katya rolls her eyes.

“But this is nothing like that. I mean… We sure need to talk things through, but she won’t even look at me.” Katya fiddles with the hem of her skirt.

“Because you’re being an idiot!” Sharon pauses and takes a deep breath. “Look, I’m doing this because of Trixie. Turns out she’s not the asshole snob I thought she was, I mean, she’s just a snob - and that awful breakup of hers… Fuck.” She sighs. “I think I can make you guys talk, though.”

“Really? I’d love the help, Sharon, just hook me up with whatever you got” Katya says, with a sparkle of hope in her eyes, not caring about seeming tough in front of Sharon anymore.

“Well, that’s something I thought I wouldn’t hear from you again… Just don’t forget that I’m not helping you, I’m helping Trixie. And I’m only doing this if you apologize to her,” Sharon says and raises her eyebrows.

“I owe you my life,” Katya answers. And she’s not apologizing, but she’s not telling that to Sharon.

“I’m sure you owe me more than that by now,” Sharon says, but she has a silly smile on her face. It feels good to have things be okay with her again, even if she has this weird way of showing it.

 

...

 

It’s been only half an hour and this is already their worst rehearsal the whole year. Laila gets her lines wrong five different times, one of the dancers, Rachel, trips and hurts her ankle and a kid accidentally, as he claims, sets fire to a coat hanger prop. Both Katya and Trixie are already done and worn out. The general atmosphere would remind anyone of a funeral. Even Sharon has left after a while because the mood was too eerie for her, so you have an idea of how terrible this has been for everyone involved.

“I’m ready to give up,” Katya says. “We should just give them the rest of the morning free.”

Trixie shakes her head. “Are you insane? They need to get at least the first dance right before we let them go! Also, what is up with Laila today? She’s off key and she’s getting her lyrics all wrong… Don’t just stand there, do something! Go talk to her!” She looks angry and frustrated and Katya has spent a fair share of time thinking about being bossed around by Trixie, but never in this context. She bets she’s one hell of a power bottom. Alright, not the time.

Katya turns to the stage, shaking her thoughts off, and calls Laila to the front.

“Yes, Ms. Zamo?” She asks, and only now that she’s looking closer she realizes how pale she actually looks. No, that’s an understatement, Laila looks like a ghost version of herself and could be easily mistaken for Casper. Just looking at her makes Katya feel sick.

“Laila, are you okay? You ’re looking a little sick, honey,” Katya says, furrowing her brow.

“I’m not feeling too well if I’m honest. Do you think Ms. Mattel would give me a day off?” Laila’s voice is soft and low. Katya wants to tell her to go home and lie down, drink some water, take an aspirin or something and forget about Ms. Mattel. This girl is obviously sick and Trixie really has been pushing boundaries, she’s gone as far as doubling their schedule and she keeps picking at the tiniest of details.

“I’ll go talk to her, don’t move,” Katya says and turns back to Trixie, but as she is about to step forward, no other than Principal Charles and his busty minion Mrs. Visage enter the auditorium and let the door shut behind them. Motherfucker. She quickly turns to Laila again. “Alright, come closer,” she whispers and the girl lowers herself. Katya pinches her cheeks. “Okay, your face will look healthy again in a second, now I need you to do me a favor - go back to the center of that stage and perform like it’s your opening night on Broadway.”

“I don’t think I’m physically capable of doing that now, Ms. Zamo,” Laila says, furrowing her brow and looking at Katya like she’s insane. She swears she can hear the teenager’s voice echoing in her head with something along the lines of “helloooo, I’m dying.”

“Do you think you will be if I turn your D into a B plus on that essay about great American painters?” Katya raises her eyebrows.  

“You serious?” Laila asks, not convinced.

“Dead serious.” Katya blinks slowly and Laila smiles wide, slaps her own face lightly to give it some color and floats to the other side of the stage with the energy that only a failing student who is given a shot can have. During their talk, Trixie was speaking with Mr. Charles and Mrs. Visage, but now they are both sitting on the third row. She smiles at Trixie and Trixie smiles back, the two fakest smiles ever witnessed.

Katya walks back to where Trixie is. “So, what the fuck are they up to?” She asks, almost whispering, and tilts her head to the side a bit.

“They just want to see how things and going and I confirmed everything is splendid,” Trixie answers, “so it better be.” Katya’s cheeks are starting to hurt from all the smiling. Trixie turns back to the stage. “Once more, with feeling!”

And so they go over every scene they have down so far, both Trixie and Katya make constructive comments and praise the kids a lot more than they usually do and for things that don’t need praise. At some point, Trixie just blurts out things like “Seth, your steps are so accurate!” or “Wow, Laila, your arm movement is very theatrical”, and Katya knows neither RuPaul nor Michelle know shit about theater so they think whatever she’s saying makes sense and nothing could be more amusing to her. Think about it: she could just say things like _when you land from that jump, the facial expression you make… oh, it’s so flazéda_ and they would never clock that it’s a fake expression. And so she does, she says it. And Trixie catches up. Soon, they are just rambling random shit that sounds authentic and even the kids are having to stop themselves not to laugh.

The joking has made the mood so light that Katya even forgets that this has been the most stressful morning of her entire career, that she and Trixie are not okay and that there are people dying out there in the world. Right now, she’s just having fun watching her students enjoying themselves onstage, she’s cracking jokes and getting to see a beautiful woman smiling because of them and this really feels like what every morning should be like. Funny how well things work when we need to prove some motherfuckers wrong.

As soon as they finish the last scene of the first act, Trixie calls it off. “Okay kids, you have done a _sickening_ job, it was absolutely _dusted_! You really let us have it!” She smiles. Crinkle under her eyes and all, Katya observes.

“You were giving me life!” Katya claps excitedly. “But that, you know, just another Tuesday morning,” she shrugs and looks at Trixie, who is already looking at her and smiling. They maintain eye contact for a few seconds before Trixie looks away, blinks slowly and stops smiling for a second. Katya watches her face sink back to that same expression she had on earlier in the morning. Her own smile perishes slowly as well.

Trixie stands up to meet Principal Charles and Mrs. Visage, and the man offers his hand. Katya walks slowly towards them after excitedly giving the thumbs up to the kids in silence and with a huge smile and silly face, only so she would dismiss them with her _serious teacher voice._

“You have done a fair job today, guys, I’m very glad that you have been keeping this rhythm up,” she winks at them and they all smile. “You’re free to go now, grab your stuff, and don’t forget to leave the prints of the feedback that you were assigned to do at home on the desk right in front of the stage. Thanks for today.”

The kids start pouring out and saying their “thank yous” and “goodbyes” on their way, to which both Trixie and Katya respond with nods and smiles. Trixie’s smiles aren’t that large anymore though.

“Well, ladies,” Mr. Charles says, as the last kids walk past them, “I see you’re doing a superb job with this musical…” Katya can almost hear Michelle’s effort not to roll her eyes. Ha. Dumb bitch. “I’m very sorry about not able to aid you financially, but I can see you have been doing alright nonetheless.” Trixie’s smile widens and Katya is both ecstatic for making them eat their best performance yet and holding back not to punch this motherfucking son of a bitch.

“Thank you very much, sir,” Trixie answers. Michelle chews her gum loudly and Katya gives her a death stare accompanied by a sweet smile, which is something you master after years of working with disgusting men. “We are putting our best efforts into this project and so are the students, as you can tell.”

“Well, I’ve happened to notice that. You ladies have even doubled the time of your rehearsal schedule,” he points out, serious. “May I ask why? You seem to be doing perfectly fine already.”

Trixie looks sweet, yet assertive. She can smile all she wants, but Katya can always read what’s behind her eyes. Right now it says “I’m about to make you eat it.”

“Sir, Alverton is already very well known for our sports, especially our football greatness” she keeps smiling and Mr. Charles nods, Mrs. Visage smiles acknowledgingly. “I just want to guarantee that our theatrical _perfection_ won’t go unnoticed.”

Trixie Mattel, the ex-blonde herself, standing up to her bully of a boss? That’s news to everyone in that room. She has her arms crossed, her foot tapping and a sweet little smile on her face that would fool those who aren’t smart enough to know that this is the face she makes after murdering somebody’s dignity. She’s staring at RuPaul and he’s staring back at her, but this time she doesn’t look afraid, she irradiates anger and attitude, and Katya doesn’t need much of a proof to know that the last thing anyone wants to do is piss Ms. Barbie doll off. See what she’s done to her hair and be a fool to think she ain’t got the guts to do worse to a man. What do you think is worth more for her? She’ll bite you, snap your neck and kick your ass, and by the time she’s done she’s still going to look like she’s come straight out of a magazine editorial.

That brown hair is really giving Katya some vibes about Trixie. Snapping necks and kicking ass? Only brunette Trixie would do that. Blonde Trixie would pay somebody to do it for her. I wouldn’t mind it if she bit me, though, Katya thinks. I wouldn’t mind if she tried to choke me or even slapped me a few times. I think I want her to do that, actually. Okay. Not the time. Really not the time. But some biting would be really welcomed. Fuck, Katya focus!

“Very well,” says the principal. “That sounds good.” Watching RuPaul’s face as he realizes his plan to destabilize them has not only failed, but failed miserably is Katya’s glorious moment of the day. She and Trixie work really well together when they want to, even when they are in the middle of a moment between themselves. She’s proud of them. She wants to hug Trixie tightly and then kiss her until they can’t breathe. She wants to look into her eyes, with her hands on the sides of her girl’s face and tell her how proud of them she is, how she knows they can do anything and most of all how good she looks after destroying RuPaul’s hopes and dreams.

She doesn’t realize it, but while Principal Charles is talking to them, she keeps staring at Trixie dreamingly, watching her smile and nod and blink and all that she wants in this very moment is to keep watching Trixie forever because she has never enjoyed looking at anything so much and nothing has ever been so worth staring at. Katya bites her lip and breathes in deep, she can almost feel her hands wanting to reach out and touch her so she crosses her arms and as soon as she does that, Mr. Charles offers her his hand and she only notices it when Trixie looks back at her and tilts her head to the side, with a mildly serious expression.

Their enemies leave and Trixie lets out a long, deep breath she might have been holding for God knows how long. Katya watches her running her hands through her hair and messing it up a little accidentally.

“I can’t believe we actually managed it,” she says. “Trixie, we had the best run of this yet. We’re gonna make it,” she smiles and steps a little closer to the brunette.

But Trixie doesn’t smile. In fact, she even takes a step back. “You’re right. We should give these kids some time off so we’re having a shorter rehearsal tonight.” That’s all she says. No cheering, no words of encouragement and definitely no kissing like Katya had pictured in her head. Trixie just picks up her things and struts to the door, letting it close after her. Katya is left with the feeling of never having anyone there with her once again. Sharon better figure something out.

 

…

 

Katya spends the rest of the day with a few words stuck in her throat, begging to come out. She rehearses her lines and comes up with facial expressions to match them, and Mrs. Monsoon catches her in the restroom doing so but doesn’t ask any questions. By now everyone has learned that Katya just does some weird shit from time to time and not asking about it tends to be the best option.

She keeps zoning out during class. As her students get busy with their own works, Katya tries to picture how their little talk is going to go, realistically, and none of the scenarios she manages to come up with are anywhere near ideal. She can only hope, at this point, that Sharon really finds a way to convince Trixie to talk to her, and honestly, only that would already be hard to believe.

When the end of their second rehearsal of the day comes, after what seems like ten entire decades to Katya, even if it did finish earlier as Trixie had promised, she has so many words in her head that she needs to rearrange them five different times before she decides what she’s actually going to say.

Katya approaches Sharon as she is shuffling through her purse, getting ready to leave. She had brought the band to the second rehearsal and the kids were still so fired up from their performance earlier on the day that it went even better than they thought it would, especially considering that Laila, the star of the show, had been dismissed. The poor girl had almost passed out during class and Mrs. Winters, the school nurse, sent her home. She guaranteed them Laila would be feeling better in a couple of days, so they shouldn’t worry because their star isn’t going anywhere.

“Hey, did you talk to Trixie for me?” Katya asks.

“Not for you,” Sharon answers, “but, um, yeah. She said she’s fine with you two talking but she wants it to be private so I think it’s better if you wait until I leave.”

Katya nods. “Oh, yes, I get that.”

“And don’t mention my name, okay?” Sharon continues. “This is about you two. Just talk to her, Katya. I think this is going to be easier than you’re expecting it to be.”

“Well, I fucking hope so. Thank you, Sharon.” Katya smiles softly. “This means a lot to me.”

Sharon smiles back. “I know. Now go get your girl,” she winks. Katya would protest and say that Trixie’s not her girl, but there’s no use. She waits until Sharon leaves to go talk to Trixie, who’s reading through the feedback the students left.

Katya walks over to her and rests against the desk... “I was hoping we could talk.”

“About the extra gowns we were talking about earlier?” Trixie responds without looking up.

“Um, no, not exactly,” Katya says. “I think we should talk about what’s happening between us.”

“There is nothing happening between us,” Trixie says as she writes a note on the paper she’s reading. “Nothing at all.”

Katya furrows her brow. If Sharon said she was up for chatting, then why isn’t she talking? Maybe she didn’t mean it and just said that to Sharon so she would shut up? Oh, fuck, this isn’t going to end up well. By the end of this, Katya thinks, I might need to move back to Russia.

“Then why are you being like this?” Katya asks, and this time she takes all of the paper on the desk, in front of Trixie and places it on the stage so she won’t avoid her.

Trixie, who just had a resting bitch face on earlier, now looks annoyed enough to push Katya down from the desk. “Well, please enlighten me on how I’m ‘being’, then.” Trixie crosses her arms and leans back against the chair. “Because if I’m acting weird, then why are _you_ trying to get my attention desperately?”

Ok, now Katya is annoyed too. She purses her lips only to open them again with a _pop_ before she starts speaking. “You, Ms. Trixie Mattel, have been acting like a bitch around me since the thing that happened in my apartment - and if you’re trying to avoid that and pretend it never happened, I’m sorry, but we have to talk about many things that happened that night.”

“Okay, alright, maybe I don’t wanna know, have you thought of that?” Trixie stands up quickly and Katya loses her balance a little bit, so she stands up too. “Maybe all that I want is to pretend that nothing happened because I just can’t deal with that right now.”

“Well, what if you have to?” Katya steps closer to Trixie. “You might not like it but you can’t pretend it didn’t happen. And if you can, well congratulations, Trixie, but I can’t. We _need_ to talk about it.”

Trixie stays still, breathing loudly without saying anything. “You know what,” she says, after a moment. “I don’t have to be here, I don’t have to be listening to this and if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving right now.” She clumsily takes her things, carrying her pink leather Prada with one hand and the papers that Katya had placed on the stage with the other. Katya watches as she struts down the aisle between seats and thinks of how bouncy her hair would have been if it was still long, blonde and gorgeous. She isn’t feeling that brown hair.

Katya leans against the stage and brings her fingers up to the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. Fucking Sharon Needles and her empty promises. She seems like a good person to blame right now, and as she hears Trixie pushing at the metal doorknobs, she tries to think of how long will it be until Sharon forgives her for real. She hears the sound of pushing on the metal again but keeps her eyes closed. And then, she hears it one more time and opens her eyes to see Trixie furiously trying to push it open and getting no result.

“Katya, for God’s sake, do you have the keys?” She keeps trying to force it to open after she asks.

Katya furrows her brow. “I don’t have access to the keys, Trixie, you’re always the one who carries them.”

“And I always leave them somewhere visible so we can all use them while we’re here, just… Just check if you can find them.” Katya inspects every surface within her reach, but gets nothing, while Trixie searches through her purse a million times. “I don’t have them here,” the Russian yells. “They must be with you.”

“Well, yeah, but they aren’t” Trixie shouts back. She walks back to the stage area muttering something under her breath. She’s pissed, Katya notices, and humiliated. Okay, she thinks, I guess we’re stuck here now. And then it hits her.

 

**To: Sharon**

**Bring the fucking keys back**

 

**From: Sharon**

**Didn’t you want some time to talk to your girl? There you have it**

 

**To: Sharon**

**She’s not “my girl”**

 

**To: Sharon**

**I’m serious, bring us the keys!!!!!!!!!**

 

**From: Sharon:**

**You know this is your only chance of talking to her. Don’t fuck it up.**

 

The bitch is right. How pathetic is it, though, that if they weren’t locked together in the same place they would never talk about it? How far would they go with the elephant still in the room? Ugh. Why is she making everything so complicated? Trixie fucking Mattel, she’s going to be the death of Katya’s.

“Sharon took the keys, didn’t she?” asks Trixie. Katya nods. “God, I knew she had something to do with this. I can’t believe you told her… Well, I don’t know what you told her, but I can’t believe you did it without talking to me first! Well, I bet it was your idea as well”

Katya lets her mouth fall open with disbelief. What the actual fuck. “Are you being serious right now, Trixie? I can point out five different mistakes on that sentence, I can’t fucking believe you right now,” she says, brow furrowed and general body language on attack mode. Is Trixie ready to attack her? Okay. She’s ready to attack Trixie too, then. “First, I _never_ told her anything because I didn’t have to. She realized something was up because you’ve been acting like a bitch around me, half the time you pretend I don’t exist and the other half you look at me like I’m a fucking piece of shit and that is not okay.”

“Second,” Katya continues before Trixie gets the chance, “you are in no position of demanding anything from me exactly because of the way you’ve been treating me. So you can’t just get annoyed if I tell people what’s going on without your consent if you insist on pretending there is nothing to tell and nothing to talk about!”

“Consent? That’s big coming from you,” Trixie replies just as loudly. "Didn't seem to be a concern to you when I was too drunk to know what I was doing."

“Trixie, we never fucked!” Katya yells. “If that why you’re angry, you can let it fucking go now because nothing happened between us!”

“Then why was I naked?” Trixie yells back.

“I have no idea! I left you with the only sweatshirt that would fit you and when I came back you had already taken it off!” Katya says. She feels her skin becoming red from both the anger she is feeling right now and the memory of Trixie lying topless on her bed. The other girl stops for a second and Katya can tell how deeply she’s breathing because her chest and shoulders are moving too much for someone who’s standing still. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I don’t know if I do, okay? I mean, I just think you might have mistaken my signals.” Trixie says, in a calmer tone, but still looking distressed. "I know that… Well, I remember saying some things that may have led to a bigger thing,” she raises her eyebrows for a second, “I’m just not sure I was ready for that bigger thing to happen. But you couldn’t have known that, so it’s not really your fault, but... I just need to blame someone right now.” She sighs. Things seem to have toned down, but there’s a bit of sadness in the way Trixie is speaking and Katya isn’t sure she wants this to be sad. She didn’t mind angry - angry is good, angry gets things off your chest, but she does mind sad. Sad opens too many doors she wants to keep shut.

“Well, okay…” She starts. “Thank you for not trusting my signal reading capacities, Trixie, but even my basic level ass can tell that if a person can't stand properly on their own feet, taking them to bed might not be the best idea” Katya says and Trixie blushes. “Even though you really came on strong to make your point that something should happen, it didn’t. I would never do that.” Katya nods reassuringly and significantly calmer. Trixie looks like she’s had an entire ton lifted off her shoulders. “And also, you threw up on my shoes. I just don’t sleep with people who throw up on my shoes.”

Trixie lets out a soft laugh and Katya smiles. Cracking a joke to make the mood lighter is the only ability she is proud of having. “So we’re talking about this, then?” She asks.

Trixie nods. “Just leave out the details you think would make me want to jump off a cliff.” Katya smiles. And all it took was a little fight for them to get talking. God knows why they both have to make things so difficult all of the time.

 

...

 

Katya tells her everything, she doesn’t even spare the details because she thinks Trixie deserves to know everything that happened that night if they want to figure themselves out. By the end of the story, Trixie has gone completely silent, even though she had been laughing or cringing or even holding back some tears when she narrated the talk they had about Ian. Katya doesn’t make her say anything, she just waits.

“I’m seeing a therapist now,” Trixie finally breaks the silence and Katya feels a wave of joy strike her. This is the girl she has been waiting for, the girl who knows what’s best for her and goes after it. God, Katya’s proud of her. “And my parents are helping me file a lawsuit against Ian.”

“That’s great news, Trixie! I’m very proud of you for making these decisions!” Katya says smiling, but she knows this isn’t all just happiness, so she dares to ask: “How have you been about, you know, all of this?”

“Just fine,” she says and tries to smile but Katya notices that she gives up halfway through that. “You know what? I’m not fine. I’m trying to put the man who I was about to marry in jail, so that’s a twist I didn’t expect, and I’m also having to talk to a stranger about all of the horrible things that I have been trying very hard not to bring up for the few years and it just sucks that now that I don’t have anything to do with that… Monster anymore everything that revolves me is about him. It’s either a meeting with my lawyer, or my mom trying to understand how this all happened, or my therapist asking too many questions… It’s exhausting.”

“I don’t think I can understand what you’re going through right now,” Katya says, stepping closer, “and I don’t know if we’re on our best terms, but I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone, and I don’t want you to feel like everything is still about him… So,” she shrugs, “I’m always here if you want to talk about Dolly Parton.”

Trixie shakes her head, which is odd, because Katya expected a hug. “It’s actually been pretty hard for me to be around you,” she says and Katya’s heart stops. “Especially when you try cracking jokes like that because you aren’t half as funny as you think you are.”

“If that's your excuse for being an asshole, I’m gonna need more information to back it up,” Katya says, trying once again to lighten the mood with a joke, even if all she really wants is to stop Trixie from whatever she is doing right now and hold her and kiss her and tell her that no matter what happens her butt will always make her smile and that everything will be okay.

“Katya… I’m sorry I’ve been acting up. I didn’t mean to hurt you I just… I need to get myself away from anything that reminds me of the person that I used to be when I was with him. I don’t want to be her anymore, I want to be me and until I figure out who that is I’m gonna need space and time and I can’t let my feelings get in the way,” Trixie says all at once and then widens her eyes. Katya smiles at her and her own heart pounds, she isn’t going to be able to resist the urge of taking this girl into her arms and kissing her like there is no tomorrow for much longer.

“That does explain the hair,” she says. She’s keeping it cool. She doesn’t want to embarrass Trixie. She wants to kiss her and make her come several times a day like any good girlfriend does. Fuck, she wants Trixie to be her girlfriend.

“I needed a change. I needed something to remind me, I don’t know…” Trixie shrugs.

“That you’re still in control? Yeah, I’ve been there.” Katya takes a step back. She’s still trying to process Trixie’s words in her brain. She can’t let her _feelings_ get in the way. She has _feelings_ , and they’re for _Katya._ She’s so infatuated with this idea that it makes her want to go back in time just to hear Trixie let it slip again. Fuck, she shouldn’t be this happy right now. “Do you really believe that you were a different person because of Ian?”

“I think he took whatever I had in me and replaced it with fear and guilt and right now I still have too much of that left in me and I don’t want it anymore,” Trixie explains. “I want to be anything but afraid and guilty, I just want to start over and forget that this ever happened.”

“I’m so sorry,” Katya says. “But if it helps, I don’t see any of that when I look at you. I see only kindness and beauty and raw talent… I see a leader and an amazing teacher and a bright woman who is ready to take on the world and make it hers. He never took this from you. I don’t think anyone ever will.”

Trixie blushes. Katya stops thinking for a moment and chooses to just act, so she comes closer to Trixie one more time and places her hand under the brunette’s chin. “I think you’re lovely. And gorgeous. And really bossy, but hey, nobody’s perfect,” they laugh gently. “But more than that I _know_ that you’re strong and you’re capable and even if you think that cutting your hair and dyeing it another color will make you someone else… Well, it won’t, and I’m glad. Same goes for your makeup. You can do whatever you want to your face and your hair, you can get a tattoo or change your style completely, but at the end of the day you’re still you, underneath all that.”

Right now, Katya has come so close to Trixie that her nose can almost touch her colleague’s chest, which is a reminder for her to never forget to wear heels around her. “You might not like that,” Katya continues, stroking Trixie’s face with her thumb, just like she did when she dried the girl’s tears on the night of _the incident_ , “you might think that he ruined you, that he left you with nothing and that you can’t find any good about yourself anymore… But that’s bullshit. He only made you believe that because it gave him power, but it never happened. No matter how afraid or guilty you are, you’re still you. And that’s still the best thing you could possibly be.”

Trixie leans in. It’s happening, Katya thinks, I’m getting to kiss the prettiest girl I’ve ever met. She has waited so long for this moment, her heart pounds to the beat of a drum that goes too fast for her to keep up and she can almost imagine how good it feels to finally taste Trixie’s lips, to feel their softness and to hold tight to her waist because she doesn’t want to miss any part of her, God, the things this girl does to her.

But then she stops. They look into each other’s eyes as they pull away from each other. “I can’t do this,” Trixie says. “I’m sorry.”

“No, _I’m_ sorry, I had no idea… Was it too soon? Fuck, it was too soon,” Katya slaps her own forehead and buries her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not you, God, this is not your fault,” Trixie guarantees her, waving her arms too much. Being around Trixie definitely makes Katya feel like a dork who doesn’t know how to deal with emotions or touching other people, especially attractive people. “There’s just too much in my head right now and I don’t wanna mess this up.”

“You don’t wanna mess it up? Trixie this already a mess!” Katya says.

“Oh, God. I wasn’t being mean to you only because I was trying to pretend that the thing between us never happened,” Trixie states, “but also because I wanted to keep you away long enough for me to get myself together because I am all screwed up! The things you said were beautiful and they might be true but that won’t fix me.”

“I see…” Katya says. “Sorry I pushed that onto you.”

“No, that was lovely,” Trixie responds. “But there’s a lot going on in my head right now and I can’t… I can’t, I just can’t focus on anything else right now. I need to leave my past behind and right now I don’t think I’m ready to… Think of anything else. I hope you understand.”

“I do, I really do,” Katya says. “Thank you for letting me know and, well, not being a bitch about it.”

“I need to learn how to deal with all of this that I’m feeling before I act upon them, and there’s a lot going on in my head right now,” Trixie lets out a sigh.

“I’m really glad, and really proud, that you’re putting yourself in first place because this is the kind of self-love and attention you’ve deserved all along,” Katya smiles. “Just… Think of yourself. You need this right now.”

“Thank you. God knows I needed to hear that,” Trixie smiles back but then her smile fades. She blushes. “Well, now that it’s all out there, what about…”

“Don’t worry,” Katya interrupts her. “I’m not going anywhere. Just… Please let me know when you’re ready to talk, yeah?”

Trixie smiles. “I wouldn’t wanna miss that.”

 

…

 

**To: Sharon**

**Your little plan worked, please come unlock us :)))**

 

**From: Sharon**

**See? I knew that’s what you needed to get it straight**

 

**From: Sharon**

**Maybe not that straight**

 

**To: Sharon**

**Okay cool but please come**

 

**From: Sharon**

**You still dirty talk like that?**

 

**To: Sharon**

**SHARON**

 

**To: Sharon**

**Are you coming or not?**

 

**From: Sharon**

**Well some things really never change…** **I’m on my way, calm down.**

 

**To: Sharon**

**Also, thank you**

  


**To: Sharon**

**Don’t tell anyone I’m saying this**

 

**To: Sharon**

**But you’re a great ex girlfriend**

 

**From: Sharon**

**I know I am. You still owe me 60 bucks from that time we went to Boston though.**

 

**To: Sharon**

**Is there anything that I don’t owe you???**

 

**From: Sharon**

**Absolutely not, you owe me everything, and now you owe me for getting your girl.**

 

**To: Sharon**

**Yeah, about that...**


	9. Part 3 - lonely if onlys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering, brunette Trixie looks like Glamazonian Airlines Trixie. You're welcome.
> 
> Bit of a spoiler:  
> \- Trixie is an asshole sometimes and her ignorance and opinions don't represent my own. She's just a character.  
> \- I have virtually no idea what the US law system is like, so I'm not sure if you can try to sue and arrest someone at the same time but in this AU you can.
> 
> Give me attention and validate me, it's my kink and you know where to go (if you don't, it's [here](http://highonbrunost.tumblr.com/)). Thank you guys so much for reading it, sorry for any mistakes and I do hope you enjoy it <3

Trixie Mattel only curses in two very specific occasions. One of them is when she’s had a few too many. 

She doesn’t usually drink with or around other people. In fact she tells everyone that she simply doesn’t drink, but when she’s home alone on Mondays and Fridays and any other evening in which she doesn’t have to be social, she drinks entire bottles of wine without a second thought. She loves the feeling of it, she can let out a pleasant sigh just thinking about it: the buzz in her head as she tries to put on Grey’s Anatomy but misses all the buttons on the remote, the silly way she giggles as she does some bold online shopping she most definitely should not be doing, the letters jumping around as she tries to read a new pie recipe to try out (she usually gives up halfway and eats some ice cream to calm her sweet tooth down) and, probably her favorite, the way her hands feel like someone else’s when she slides and rubs them all over herself with very little, if any, clothing on as she screams some dirty, dirty things loud enough for her next door neighbors to give her an awkward smile on the morning after as they’re taking out the trash - but thank God they never ask who the hell is this Katya they hear so much of even though they’ve never seen her there. 

See, wine does this to her. If she shoots whiskey she’ll fall asleep then and there, vodka makes her way too cheery, it’s her party drink, beer is gross and she wouldn’t dare drink it, but wine… oh wine. If she has too much of it, it will turn her from a sweet little lady into your dirty babygirl, who’s been so good for you, will you pretty please eat her out and make her feel good? And now, when she gets like this, there’s no way she can stop herself from biting her lip and running her hands over her breasts, praying she won’t get wet enough that her juices will drip down her thighs - because that does happen every once in a while, and she can’t let people see her like that. What a few bottles of wine do to her is the same that a single shot of tequila would. We don’t talk about tequila. We stick with wine. 

That’s also why she always stops as soon as her first bottle is empty, but then again she didn’t a few Saturdays ago, so she went past the horny princess stage and straight (or not so much) into the maniac problem solver with an excessive honesty issue (weirdly specific, she knows)- that’s how we end up in the second situation in which she curses: her therapy sessions.

Trixie’s therapist, Mrs. Kasha Davis, insists to be called Kasha. She doesn’t want any formalities inside of her office, she says; she wants Trixie to let it go completely and say whatever, sit however and cry whenever - she has, in fact, said that, in these exact words, more than once, and Trixie doesn’t necessarily appreciate the fact that she has a motto. Tacky. As. Shit.

Kasha is a tall woman who often wears long skirts or flowy dresses and an exaggerated amount of jewelry to go along with her expensive shoes and Trixie’s sure it isn’t her husband who’s paying for them. No judging, though. Maybe just a little. Her office is not that big, but it was obviously designed to feel comforting and safe at all times - that means neutral beige walls, dim lighting, soft carpets and the artificial smell of lavender. Unfortunately, Trixie thinks it’s just as tacky as her motto and the lavender gives her a headache. 

It sounds right now as if Trixie doesn’t like her, but that’s not it - she thinks Mrs. Davis is a great person, she’s just getting used to the idea of opening up to a stranger. And paying way too much money to do so. She has cried too many times in front of that woman and screamed at her many times more. She was usually angry and frustrated because that’s how she felt when talking about Ian. Screw denial and depression, screw bargaining and looking for answers - she went straight to anger.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” She shouted during their second session. She goes there twice a week. “See I’m not a bad person, but I would love to see that motherfucker die in a fire, I’d fucking set him on fire myself if I could.” 

On their fifth encounter, she had already come a long way with her anger issues and managed to stay a lot calmer. “Hm. Maybe I want to see him die a slow death,” she shrugged. “But since I can’t do that, I guess I’ll just sue the living shit out of him, I’ll take every fucking penny from him and make sure he rots in jail.”

“You never say his name,” Mrs. Davis pointed out. “Have you noticed that pattern in your speech?” She raised her eyebrows. 

“Yes, I have. I don’t say his name because I am done with him. I am done and I don’t ever want to see or hear from him again, he is dead to me,” Trixie answers.

“Well, you can’t set a dead man on fire just to watch him die all over again, dear,” the therapist said. Trixie crossed her arms and frowned. Here comes another life lesson, she thought. “Listen, I think you are really caught up in the idea of revenge, and even if unconsciously, you’re still making it about him. I can tell you are trying not to do that, but that’s what happens when you let your anger take over your mind.”

“I know that!” She didn’t know that. Shit. 

“Then why do you insist on anger? Why do you still let him control you like that?” The therapist tapped the pen on her knee slowly. It was driving Trixie nuts, this little habit of hers. She loves tapping her pen, like she doesn’t have more important things to do like, I don’t know, fixing her patients? God, Trixie does sound rude but she swears she likes Kasha. She just hates the pen. 

Trixie was about to cry. “You know that I don’t have an answer” she said, voice shaking. She was pouting like a toddler. “I haven’t had any in awhile now, and I’m not going after them. I don’t wanna know.”

“Dear, you need to take control over your whole life again. And that’s not an easy thing to do,” Mrs. Davis told her. “But it’s definitely possible. I think the first step to that is making peace with your past. You don’t have to like it, but you do have to accept it. You have to wake up in the morning every day and tell yourself that this is not your reality anymore, the past is in the past and it can’t touch you right now.”

Trixie sighed. The therapist continued. “Be careful not to neglect your past, though. Whatever happened, good or bad, is always going to be there, and that’s why you have to be at peace with it. Accept it, but move on. This is a new phase, dear. It’s a brand new you.” As Trixie listened, she widened her eyes and raised her eyebrows slowly. She dried the single tear that dripped down her face and stood up a few seconds before her therapist told her the time was up. She was in some sort of a trance-like state when she went down the stairs of the commercial building where the therapist’s office is, thinking only about how right she was. God, so right. It was a brand new her. The guilty, scaredy Trixie was over. Dead. She realized she was a new version of herself, and upgraded version and she needed desperately to get rid of anything that reminded her of the coward who let that monster abuse her for so many years. 

She would normally bounce down the stairs, but on that day she barely slid, and then stopped suddenly. On the second floor of the building, there was a salon called Brenda’s. It looked cheap and perfect for middle-aged ladies with bob haircuts and highlights. She had an idea and she didn’t stop to think about it - instead, she burst the doors open and gave the Asian girl who was sitting cross-legged on the chair a visible jumpscare.

“I want my hair short above my shoulders,” Trixie announced, “and I want it brown. Can you do that for me?” The salon attendant looked at Trixie infuriated, took the magazine she was reading closer to her chest and murmured something in an unknown language. Chinese maybe? Japanese? Trixie didn’t care, it’s all the same anyway.

“Please, ma’am,” the girl tossed the magazine to the side. Trixie noticed that it wasn’t in English either. “I can’t dye your hair if you scare me to death before I get to the product.”

Trixie raised her brows. Oh, she thought. This one is  _ sassy _ . “Well, sorry. I didn’t realize you were so focused on your reading,” she crossed her arms. The attendant stood up and grabbed an apron that was lying nearby. She happened to be taller than Trixie anticipated. 

“Well, that is no excuse to barge in just like that,” she said with a heavy lisp as she tied the apron behind her back. “What if I was  cardiac? I could have had a stroke for all you know.”

“Alright, alright, sorry I scared you,” Trixie walks over and sits on the same chair the other girl had been before. She looks so young, but Trixie’s sure it’s some kind of trick, she can’t be younger than 25. “I’m Trixie. Can you please fix my hair?”

“Nice to meet you,  _ Trixie _ . That’s the whitest name I’ve ever heard. Is it short for, like, Beatrice?” The attendant asked.

“Beatrix, actually,” Trixie explained. “With an x.”

“Oh  _ wow _ .” She sighed and shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.” The girl extended her perfectly manicured hand and Trixie shook it, trying to hide her mildly offended face. She never thought someone calling her white would feel like an insult, but hey, you learn something new every day. “I’m Kim. It’s short for Kimberly.”

They stared at each other in silence, with the most serious faces they could bear pulling, but when Kim cracked a smug smile and started laughing, Trixie couldn’t help but laugh along with her. What a bitch. She had a feeling they were gonna get along just fine. 

 

…

 

Trixie found out, as they chatted while she got her hair cut and dyed, that it’s surprisingly easy to open up to a stranger - as long as they’re making you feel prettier. She told her a brief version of her story with Ian as the hairstylist ran scissors through her soft, blonde waves and learned that Kim had had a story similar to hers, but maybe worse. The monster ruining her life was her own mother. 

“I left home as soon as I finished high school. One of my friends had family in Boston and I came with her,” Kim said as she ran her hands through Trixie’s new bob haircut. “But Boston was too big and too messy… I didn’t really like it there.”

“It’s so brave of you to come here all the way from Japan, at such a young age… On your own… Wow.” Trixie sighed as she nodded. Kim furrowed her brow.

“First of all, I’m Korean” Kim furrowed her brow. “Second… You do know I’m from Chicago, right?” she asked. They met those familiar few seconds of silence before they started laughing again. 

Trixie left the salon that day without recognizing herself, but in a good way. When Kim was done and she looked in the mirror, she didn’t see that same girl who was afraid and guilty, who tried her best to find herself and ended up lost in the mess that a monster had made out of her. She saw fresh, new. She saw someone who she didn’t know yet but was dying to meet, and it wasn’t even about her hair anymore.

“My shift ends in an hour. Do you wanna grab some coffee later?” Kim asked and Trixie found herself nodding before the girl had finished the sentence. Nobody, since she had come back from college, had asked her out in a friendly way. Except that one time Katya forced her to go over to hers, but that was for work reasons. Them having fun together was purely accidental. A good kind of accidental. She missed letting herself be around Katya, but she couldn’t let that happen. She didn’t know if she’d be fine with hanging out with a woman that now knows how much she wants to kiss her, which was never meant to be said out loud, but guess things never really go the way we plan. 

But now, she almost didn’t feel so bad for having to pretend Katya didn’t exist for she was overtaken with the joy of a new friendship on the rise. After so many years stuck with Ian, and after drunkenly saying way too much to her only friend, she felt blessed for finding someone who wasn’t part of that mess but was willing to listen, and honestly? The hour and a half she spent talking to Kim at the Alverton Coffee House felt so, so much better than the weekly therapy sessions she was having. Kim was to Trixie like her very own Paulette, from Legally Blonde. In fact, Trixie thinks she has a lot more in common with Elle than people think. 

They had talked about the sad things back at the salon, and her new friend listened closely and said she didn’t feel sorry. She said she would have if Trixie was still with that asshole, but she knows she’s okay now, or at least “okayer” than she was before. At the café, though, Kim told her she didn’t want to hear the words “fiancé”, “breakup”, “lawyer” or “therapist”. She intimated Trixie into talking about happier things, it would be the best for her. And it was. For the first time in weeks she had a conversation that wasn’t about cancelling the venue, filing the goddamn lawsuit or business complications - they only talked about Kim’s hair and makeup artist career, Alverton High’s Spring Musical, why donuts are better than cupcakes, hair nightmare stories and bands with good names and terrible music. For that brief, brief period of time, Trixie forgot her troubles, she forgot any of the things that had been driving her up the wall the past weeks, including Katya. She was just a girl, drinking her latte with her new friend and laughing about stupid shit they were saying to each other. She felt like the basic white girl she was supposed to be all along: fresh out of the hairdresser, carefree and cute. That’s the real her.

When the bill came, Trixie watched Kim struggle for being short on three dollars. She told her to chill, she could get this. It really was no problem for her. Kim’s face grew red and she shrugged.

“I really wanted to say this is a one time thing,” she started, “but that’s all I’ve had in my wallet the whole week, plus about seven hundred dollars on my bank account. Times aren’t good for the working class.”

“That sucks,” Trixie said as she put her wallet away in her purse. 

“It really does. I spent all my money, almost literally, on makeup and hair shit, but I have nearly no clients, only the ones at the salon and the tipping ain’t that great,” she explained. “Plus, Brenda’s a huge bitch. I don’t think her accounting skills are at the top of her game - that or she steals from me and Farrah.”

“Do you get paid by the hour?” Trixie asked, and Kim nodded. 

“15 bucks an hour,” she answered. Trixie’s jaw dropped.

“Well that is obviously not enough! God, I bet your apartment is worse than Katya’s!” She took her hand to her mouth in horror. That’s waaaaay too little, she thought. How could anyone live like this? Totally not fair. 

“Who’s Katya?” Kim asked, furrowing her brow. Oh, that’s just the name I’ve left out of the story because I’m trying to avoid in real life, Trixie thought. And it’s not working. “And my apartment is fine, thank you very much.”

“Well, Katya is a long story,” Trixie said. “I can tell you about that if we happen to come for coffee again.”

“Sounds fair…” Kim smiled at her. Trixie smiled back. She was really on her way to making a friend, a real life friend, who wanted to tell jokes, talk about movies and listen to her vent about Katya! What else could she ask for? Jesus, nothing. Kim was perfect. Hm. She couldn’t ask for anything else, but maybe she could try and give back… 

“So, about your makeup work… Do you only do it at Brenda’s?” Trixie asked as they approached her car. She had offered Kim a ride, but the girl had declined it. Trixie knew it wasn’t because she was trying to be polite - they had met only a few hours  ago but she already knew Kim’s not that kind of person. She doesn’t care about being polite. Reminds her of a certain chainsmoker she knows. 

“Well, not really. Right now I’m going over to a client’s house actually and I’m gonna do her makeup” Kim said. “I’ll have to walk back to the salon and get my stuff, but she lives pretty close so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Sounds nice… If you don’t mind me asking, how much do you charge for this kind of service?” Trixie raised her eyebrows.

“Around thirty to thirty-five bucks the hour,” she shrugged.

Trixie smiled. “And are your days usually busy?”

“Not much, really. I have afternoon shifts at the salon and I do about three makeups a week in the evening,” she told the brunette. “That if I’m lucky.”

“Alright. I’m interested in hiring your services,” Trixie stopped and turned to face Kim, who now looked annoyed.

“No you’re not. You’re feeling bad because I’m poor,” Kim blinked slowly, crossing her arms.

“And aren’t you feeling bad because I’m all kinds of fucked over emotionally?” Trixie asked, putting her hands on her wide hips.

Kim rolled her eyes. “Alright, we both feel bad for each other so we’re gonna exchange services for money. Capitalism wins once again.”

Trixie ignored that. “I want you to come over to my house every morning to do my hair and makeup.”

“Well, alright. I can do that,” Kim said, still looking a little offended. “Doesn’t feel like you’re trying to buy my friendship at all.”

Now it was Trixie’s turn to roll her eyes. “You’re starting tomorrow. I’ll pay you fifty dollars an hour, plus tip. You don’t get a say in this. And don’t worry, we’re not friends yet, so this isn’t like… Because I feel sorry. But I do happen to be your client and I personally think it’s nice when people I pay to do things aren’t assholes. I mean,” Trixie tilted her head and pursed her lips, “you can technically still be an asshole to me if you’d like…”

“I really want to defend myself and tell you that I’m not a charity case… But I am. I’ll take it,” Kim shrugged. Trixie smiled. She had just found her third situation to curse in: being around Kim. 

 

…

 

“Okay, so there’s something I may have left out in our conversations and now I really need to talk about it,” Trixie taps her fingers nervously on the armchair as Kasha looks at her from above her purple glasses. It is strangely warm this Friday, so Trixie is only wearing a thin cardigan and some open-toed wedges. “Something happened this week and now I really see why I should stop keeping stuff from you.”

“It’s alright, dear, it’s alright… How urgent is this matter?” The therapist scribbles something on her notepad and then looks back up at Trixie. 

“I’m not sure… I just…” Trixie tries to speak but fails, sighing deeply instead. “So there’s this girl.”

Kasha raises her eyebrows. “... Okay, what’s with this girl?” Trixie blushes and tries to hide her face discreetly. It doesn’t work. “You have nothing to be ashamed of Trixie, this is a free space for you to talk about your feelings, whatever they are.”

“I… Am an awful person,” Trixie now completely hides her face and groans. “Why can’t I just, I don’t know,  _ not  _ have feelings for people?”

“Because you’re a human and healthy human beings tend to have feelings and emotions, a considerable number of which are towards other living things,” Kasha blinks slowly. 

“I didn’t really want an answer but thanks, now I don’t feel like I’m the only piece of shit walking on Earth,” Trixie says, the sound muffled by her hands. She lifts her head quickly and sighs really loudly. “Okay, Kasha, remember when you told me you felt there was something missing from the whole he-who-shall-not-be-named thing? Her name is Katya.”

Kasha takes many, many notes as Trixie rambles on about the woman. How she hated Katya at first because something about her just inexplicably made Trixie go nuts, but now she realizes it was just because she felt attracted and turned on by her. How she could easily take lead of the musical and leave her there, because she knows she can do this by herself, but she wants Katya there. How she stopped having sex with Ian after she started having inappropriate dreams and thoughts about the Russian’s red lingerie and how sweaty she was after that one dance rehearsal. How she could let go and be herself around her. How she wanted to touch her, even if just briefly, just to feel what it’s like. How she wanted to kiss her, how she ached to feel her lips on hers and her hand on the girl’s hair. How she actually tried to kiss her, and how Katya rejected it because she knew it wasn’t the time. How they tried it again and failed again. How patient Katya was with her, how she held her chin up and told her beautiful things that made her heart flutter. How she was the only thing on her mind after her brain had stopped working because of that third bottle of wine. How she can try as she will, but Katya still won’t leave her mind. And how she tried, and tried, and tried.

“... And, I don’t know. I’ve never been in a situation like this before. There’s just  _ so  _ much going on and then fucking Katya comes and… Ugh. Okay,” Trixie exhales. 

“Well, dear, of course you’ve never been in this situation before, trying to get someone arrested while discovering your, well your preferences… not something you do everyday, huh? And dare I say… It’s a little too much, don’t you think?” Kasha asks. 

“I do. That’s why I told her we can’t be together.” Trixie sighs. “At least not yet.”

“Why did you say that?” Kasha asks.

“Because I’m not ready,” Trixie answers. “I’m going through a lot right now and I just ended an engagement and it is too much. Too much. I do want to be with her but not now. Not while she can’t be the only thing I have to think of…”

Kasha nods as she scribbles something down. “And how did she react to that?”

Trixie smiles softly. “She was very understanding, actually.” She’s blushing, god she’s blushing and thinking of Katya makes her feel the same way she felt when she saw Nick Carter for the first time. “She told me it’s good that I take some time for myself. And that she isn’t going anywhere.”

Kasha smiles. “She sounds like a lovely woman, Trixie. I bet she cares about you a lot.”

Trixie nods. “She does.”

“And she is right, also,” Kasha raises her eyebrows and takes a sip of what Trixie thinks it’s coffee from a mug, but it could be anything as far as we know. “You really do need some time for yourself. You need to disconnect the idea that you are who Ian told you that you were, you need to find out who you can be for yourself. For how many years, Trixie, have you lived just for him?”

“Too many,” Trixie shakes her head in hopes to shake off the thoughts.

“Exactly,” Kasha replies. “This is your time, Trixie, to be yourself and do whatever you want. I mean, you don’t have to go into abstinence, you should most definitely explore your sexuality in a healthy manner now that you have the chance but I wouldn’t recommend…”

“Getting too involved?” Trixie guesses.

Kasha purses her lips. “Yeah. I don’t think you should put feeling into it. Try for once, Trixie, doing things just because. Because you feel like it. Because you want to. Because you’re bored. But do it for you, genuinely.”

Trixie gives her a half-hearted smile. How can she explain there is no way not to put her feelings between her actions?

 

…

 

Out of all scenarios she had played in her head, Trixie never for a moment dared think she would find herself in this one, sitting on a moldy worn-out couch, holding a red solo cup with some screwdriver in it after doing two tequila shots. It feels like college all over again. Not that it’s bad, really, she’s having the time of her life watching Kim and her friends playing drunk Uno and some random girls dancing awfully to EDM just like they’re in a rave. She’s chill. She just really never thought she’d live to see an early-twenties people party again.

Earlier that day, Trixie finally got the call she had been waiting for since her first meeting with the lawyers two months ago. She told Katya to supervise the things and watch Jason’s steps because he was doing a wrong spin somewhere and that needed to be fixed, left the auditorium and answered her phone in the parking lot. Obviously everyone, just from the look in her face knew what the call was about and paused, waiting for her to come back on the edge of their sits, metaphorically, and biting their nails, literally. News travels fast in Alverton. 

What her attorney’s voice said was the only exact thing she needed to hear. The papers had gotten through. She’s taking Ian to court. She’s finally gonna make him pay.

Trixie tried to play it cool, but the sigh of surprise and relief that left her lips, along with the tears that dripped from her eyes, made it painfully obvious that she was the happiest she had been since this whole mess started. She leaned against the door and cried, for joy, for relief, for herself. One day closer to the end. 

When she came back, her makeup was intact, thanks to Kim’s top quality products and techniques, but her eyes were watered and swollen - still, her smile didn’t leave any room for doubt. When Katya looked at her, she didn’t even have to ask (of course she was caught up on the story, Trixie seems not to understand the concept of “non-disclosure” contract, or just not to care), Trixie just nodded. Katya held her with what she interpreted as the wish to never let go, while the Russian shed as many tears as she did and the crowd of students behind them cheered.

They cancelled rehearsals for the rest of the day and Trixie ordered pizza for everyone. Even though everyone only knew the story more or less, since only Katya would hear the full version with updates, most girls and boys gave her a tight hug and congratulations, some kids even took their time to say a few words of encouragement that nearly made her sob. Even Sharon stepped out of her indifferent and eerie persona and told Trixie, trying to swallow her tears, how much hope she had in her. How she deserved the world and more. And how much she hated her for not smudging that eyeliner. 

After the students were gone and Sharon hugged her one last time, Katya stayed behind so they could be alone. Trixie had to hold herself back not to kiss her with all of her will, not to confess everything then and there even though she already knew it. What she did instead was let herself be hugged the tightest by the only person that mattered in that moment, and let her whisper beautiful things in her ear.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt happier for anyone before” Trixie took in Katya’s rough voice and unpolished accent and it felt like burning liquor down her throat. “It’s closer to the end than it is to the beginning now. It’s gonna end sooner than you think. I’m so proud of you.”

Trixie couldn’t answer, she was so infatuated with Katya’s chin on the curve of her neck and her hands on her back and being able to smell her scent from so up close all she did was pull away and fondly kiss her cheek. 

“Thank you for being here for me, even though we’re a mess,” she finally said. We. She said we are a mess and Katya nodded. 

The smiling Russian held her hand then kissed her cheek, leaving a red lipstick print. “Being a mess is part of the fun, doll. I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.” Trixie melted then and there. It’ll be worth the wait, she reminded herself. It’ll be worth the wait.

When she was finally in her orange SUV, she called her mom, cried a whole lot more and then called Kim. 

“We, ma’am need to celebrate,” she said. “I’m driving to Boston later. I’ll spend the weekend at a friend’s. We’re having a party tonight, you should come with me.” And so Trixie decided to follow her therapist’s advice and do something just because, do it because she felt like it. She deserved it after all the shit she had been through. So she said yes. And now one of Kim’s friends is about to throw up out of the window and this  _ really  _ feels just like college all over again.

The only thing in her head is Katya. Her lips touching her skin, her hands moving softly across her back and her hot breath as she whispered in her neck. Jesus, she’s got a chill from the last one. Her brain does have a tendency to think of the Russian when it isn’t working very well anymore. It’s always the first face to pop on her mind. The tequila was not a good idea. She can feel herself blushing from the thoughts she’s having right now. She takes a sip of her screwdriver and chews the ice.

But, she thinks as she bites, I’m not with Katya right now. And I can’t be. That is true - plus the she can’t let this consume her like the one before did, not that Katya is anything like Ian, there is no comparison there but she spent too much time of her life dedicating it to lovers. It’s time she dedicates it to herself, take her own life back. 

Then she sees the tallest woman she’s ever laid eyes on, staring right at her from across the room. Her mood changes suddenly.

Maybe, she thinks, it doesn’t mean I need to go into nun mode. No strings attached sounds a lot like self-care to me right now. Maybe I can get myself used to kissing other people and touching other people. Of course the only one I want to fuck is Katya, but I don’t have to go that far. She’s entering the pool by the stairs, taking it in slowly until she’s finally ready to dive head first into something bigger and stronger and that will take absolutely all of her. 

She smiles back at the brunette. The woman raises her eyebrows and makes her way to Trixie slowly, bringing a bottle of tequila along. She pretends not to see it because she’s sure if she has one more shot she’ll either do some bad shit to that stranger or she’ll be next in line for the window vomiting competition. But fuck, she wouldn’t mind being naughty with the girl who’s walking over to her (even if she screams Katya’s name by accident). Her legs go all the way up to her asshole. She’s the hottest person in the Boston area, Trixie thinks, and she’s coming in my direction. I can do this. 

“You’re new around here, aren’t you?” The brunette asks with a smile, as she sits down and crosses her legs lazily, turning to Trixie.

“I’m Kim’s friend from Alverton, Trixie” she says and sips on her drink. The woman smiles.

“I’m Kim’s friend from Boston, Naomi” the dark-skinned girl replies with a glow-in-the-dark white smile and Trixie swears she would kill to find out how can someone be so beautiful. “So, what are you having there?”

“Oh, some screwdriver. I know I’m lame, but I have no idea what’s gonna happen if I have any more tequila,” she shrugs and sips again. Naomi gently reaches for the cup, making sure to touch Trixie’s fingers with hers, and takes a sip of it herself, then frowns.

“It tastes like shit,” she laughs. “Here,” she grabs some lemon and salt from the coffee table in front of them. “I think some pretty good things can happen if you have more tequila.”

Suggestive. Alright. She’s being hit on, and hit on hard by the prettiest girl at the party. Trixie usually  _ is _ the prettiest girl at the party so this is very new to her. “I’m good, thanks” she says and Naomi pouts. “I think you’re the one who needs an extra shot here.”

Naomi gives her the most shit-eating grin she has ever witnessed and shrugs casually. “If you say so…”

“Here,” Trixie tries to take the bottle and touches the soft hand that’s already around it. “Give me a glass and I’ll pour it out for you.”

The girl gives her a stunning naughty smile. “Don’t worry about that, she says and hops over Trixie’s lap, one leg on each side of her thighs, and sits on her knees. Trixie thinks about Katya, with her skinny legs and how short she is compared to her. She would struggle to keep her legs on the sides of Trixie’s huge thighs, but Naomi doesn’t even think about it - her legs are long enough that she wouldn’t have to touch her if she didn’t want to, but apparently she does. She really does. 

Before Trixie can say anything, Naomi continues. “See, I have a very unique way of doing my shots,” she says and unbuttons the first button on Trixie’s shirt, who looks at her with a caught-off-guard look, but doesn’t tell her to stop, so she continues. “I think you’re gonna like it.”

She pushes Trixie’s button-up off her shoulders, leaving her pink bra to be of everyone’s sight. Trixie doesn’t care. It’s been a while since she last played the part of a party slut. This has come right on time. Both of them are staring at each other when Trixie decides to really embrace it and push her top down even further. The other brunette raises her eyebrows, clearly pleased.

Trixie moans quietly when Naomi licks off the salt she had poured on her collarbone.Then, she instinctively pushes her breasts together as Naomi pours tequila down her chest and then looks her in the eyes before she starts licking and slurping it off her tits. She moans louder, but no one hears it. Naomi carves her nails into Trixie’s back as she continues running her tongue over her breasts and biting softly here and there.

She then stops and takes the lemon between her teeth, but spits it out as soons as Trixie grabs her by the back of her head and brings her up to her mouth. They smile and breathe down on each other as they stare at their mouths, but Naomi soon closes the space between them with a hot, sloppy kiss. 

Feels like she’s finally doing something for herself.

 

…

 

She’s now at Bob’s apartment, where she and Kim are crashing. Fortunately, they left before Naomi’s hand traveled down Trixie’s thigh and into her panties, which would have been a bad idea. But she got the girl's number and her bra stayed on the whole time so that felt like a victory.

Kim was fast asleep on the bed Bob had kindly offered them for the night, but Trixie still had to remove her makeup. She stumbled into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. She could feel the rests of liquid dripping down her chest to her stomach and she felt a little gross. She wondered if Katya would ever try to do shots off her. God, she wonders if Katya would mind another woman doing shots off her. She misses Katya. She wishes Katya would be touching her breasts right now.

Before she realizes, sits on the edge of the bathtub with her phone to her ear. It’s two in the morning and she hopes Katya picks up her phone.

“Trixie, is everything ok?” She asks after the second ring. Trixie smiles.

“It is now…” she answers, almost singing. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Are you drunk? Where are you?” Katya insists. What a bore, can’t she just relax and enjoy this vibe that’s taking Trixie over?

“I am drunk in Boston, with Kim.” She giggles. “Don’t worryyyyy, I’m fine. I just really needed to hear your voice.”

“Alright, you’re hearing it and it’s telling you to go drink some water” the Russian replies. Trixie giggles.

“You’re so silly… I’m alright, I swear.” Trixie sighs. “I thought of you a lot tonight. Still thinking.”

“Did you? I thought of you too,” Katya says. Trixie isn’t sure if this feeling in her stomach are the famous butterflies or if she needs to throw up. Maybe both.

“I kissed a girl today. And I let her do a shot off my tits. And I really wanted it to have been you.” Trixie says and the pout can definitely be heard in her voice. 

“Too bad, you know that I don’t drink,” Katya replies. There is no change in her voice, it’s still sweet and caring. Or maybe that’s just how Trixie sees it. 

“Well it’s okay, I don’t need tequila to let you suck on my tits. You can do it any day.” Katya’s breath gets a little heavier for just a spare second and Trixie, even if her head is working very slowly, doesn’t miss that. Exactly what she was waiting for.  “Would you like to do that, Katya?”

“I’d fucking love to,” Katya answers. “I just don’t think we should talk about it now.”

“Why not?” Trixie asks, resting her head on the wall with a smug grin. “Doesn’t it feel nice to picture that in your head? It’s fun for me. I can see your lipstick stains all over them, can’t you?”

Katya had told Trixie her rule about not fucking anyone who is too drunk to tell her exactly what they want her to do to them, and she remembers it oh so clearly. “They’re all sticky with tequila right now… Wouldn’t you like to lick it clean?” She continues. “I’d like you to do that.”

“Tell me,” Katya says, her breath slightly heavier. Looks like Trixie’s winning this round. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“First,” she starts and giggles. “I want you to lick and suck my tits clean from all this mess, without holding back… I wanna see how much you’re enjoying it. And then I want you to move down, slowly, teasing, playing… Yeah, I really want you to play with me a little before you get there, and I know you’d love to see me like that, all wet for you… When you get down there I want you to give me nice pussy kisses before you start to eat me out and make me scream. Do you want that? Do you want me to scream your name?”

“Fuck, Trixie, I do. What’s gotten into you today? Shit, I didn’t know you were such a slut,” Katya’s voice is kind of cracking. Trixie imagines she is trying really hard not to touch herself.

“And I’m not, I’m not a slut,” she replies. “A slut would do what I wanna do to anyone… I just want you. I want to be a good girl for you, only you.” She closes her eyes, places one foot inside the tub and the other on the floor, riding her skirt up a little bit. She waits for it biting her lip.

“Fuck. Fuck. Okay, Barbie doll, you wanna be a good girl for me,” Trixie nods without realizing Katya can’t see her, “so here’s what you’ll do: drink a tall glass of water and stop calling me when you’re drunk.”

Trixie’s eyes shoot open. “What?”

“We need to have a chat about your drinking habits,” Katya says, “and why you always come to me when you’re out of your goddamn mind.”

“Well I was trying to come  _ for _ you but looks like that’s not happening tonight,” she rolls her eyes.

“Well it isn’t. Trixie, trust me I do hate to say this but I’m not doing anything to you unless you’re sober, 100%.” Katya sighs. “The time isn’t right yet. And I don’t wanna mess it up with you.”

Trixie sits with her legs out of the tub. Her right foot is a little wet now, but she doesn’t mind it. “You care a lot about me, don’t you?”

“I do. And that’s why I wanna wait, you mean too much to me for me to just rush into this without thinking about it,” she says. “Plus, your last relationship, that lasted several years, was a fucking nightmare and I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have a choice, you do, and if you don’t choose me I’ll learn how to deal with it.”

“I do choose you! But I have to choose me first!” Trixie replies. “I can do both.” Did that make any sense? She isn’t sure. She also doesn’t care.

“Babygirl, right now, I’ll be nothing but something on the way between you and your time figuring yourself out.” Katya’s voice is rough with tiredness, but the words are so smooth… “I want what’s best for you and right now it’s not me. I hope soon it will be.”

“You’re right. I’m not thinking straight right now,” is she ever, though? “I need this time for myself. I had told you that before, I just… I guess I’m lonely.”

“I think you’re just horny and drunk, again,” Katya comments and they both laugh. “Drink your water and go to sleep, doll.”

“I will. You should sleep too,” Trixie says. “Thank you for being so kind and patient.”

“Not more than my obligation, is it?” Katya replies. “Go to bed, angel. Good night.”

“I will. Good night,” Trixie says and sighs. She knows Katya is ready to hang up, but there’s something she needs to say. Katya needs to hear it. “Katya?”

“Yeah?” She responds.

“I just wanna let you know,” Trixie is sure Katya can hear her smile just from her voice, “that I’ll moan real pretty for you while you fuck me. Good night.”


	10. Part 4 - i'll wear my third degrees and my heart upon my sleeve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, hi there strangers. Come here often?  
> I know, i knoooow it took me forever to upload and i'm very upset about it but heeeeey, it's here now, let's enjoy it and forget how fucking late i am with it! Unfortunately, this is the last part of the story, which means it's gonna be over soon (not so soon if i keep updating like this tbh), but you are very free to send me au requests on [tumblr](http://highonbrunost.tumblr.com/) for me to get some inspiration from, *winks*. Sorry for any mistakes, I honestly just uploaded it as soon as I finished writing.  
> Anyway, I hope you can forgive me for being so late and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it! Thanks for being patient and being here, y'all are great <3

The first time Katya heard Alexandra say “I love you”, she felt the sunlight beaming through the window, warming her naked back and the other girl’s heart racing after being fucked, and fucked good. The curtain was open, the sheets were dirty and there was a coffee stain on the wooden floor. They were twenty-two and the sun had come out for the first time that winter. 

Katya didn’t answer straight away. She kissed her girlfriend, felt the smile through it, then booped her nose with the tip of her index. “I love you too,” she said, and she did. Absolutely everything felt like love at that moment. Whatever was playing on the TV they kept on just as a background noise, the smell of sex and old cigarettes, the soft touch of skin on skin and the slight feeling of sweat dripping between breasts and behind knees, the numbness of the toes and the warmth on the back of their necks. It all felt like love and being loved, and it was all beyond physical, it was spiritual, Katya could actually  _ feel _ the love growing and radiating from her. 

When Trixie told her, in her bathroom, after throwing up, that she thought Katya looked like art, her mind sent her back to Alexandra instantly. Not only did she look like art, she felt like art, she  _ was _ art. Everything about her was translated into something beautiful and inexplicable and genuine. Walking art, that’s what she was. She painted Katya’s skin pink with blush from her words, traced her outlines in lust and loved her smoothly, like the swiftness of brushing up and down on a blank canvas until it became something. Katya became hers, only hers, and hers forever. “I love you”, she said every day, morning, afternoon and evening, and every day she meant it. 

Nothing was the same after the dinner at her parent’s house. “I love her,” Katya yelled, caught in the middle of the chaos. “I love her and that you can’t change.”

“Love?” Questioned the mother, raising her voice. “What do you know about love, Yekaterina? This that you claim to feel is nothing but lust. I never thought I’d live to see my daughter, my very own daughter becoming… scum. A sinner.”

“Mom, I love her,” Katya begged. “I do.”

“You don’t know what love is. Your kind of people don’t  _ feel  _ love,” her mother yelled. Katya still has nightmares about it to this day. There was so much screaming, there were broken plates and glasses and also a heart or two. Her own heart sunk and shattered. If you looked hard enough, you’d see the remains along with the broken pieces of china scattered around the floor. She went home that night and, in the shower, scrubbed her skin so hard it turned red and almost rashed, all in hopes she would feel less disgusting, in hopes she’d get rid of the loathing stuck to her flesh. It didn’t help. 

She still loved Alexandra, so much it physically hurt her, but every time she tried to say it, her head went back to her mother telling her she was incapable of loving and she froze right then and there. The day her girlfriend left, Katya didn’t cry. She couldn’t, she had unlearned how to. There was Alexandra, then there was nothing. And there has been for a while. 

Katya knew Sharon loved her. She would be woken up every morning with the smell of eggs and bacon, go to sleep every night after a great orgasm and never left the house without a jacket because Sharon always handed it to her at the door. To try and top that, Katya paid for their meals, fixed their coke, called her girlfriend a bad girl, spanked and choked her until she came and sometimes wouldn’t stop until she squirted. Fucked her good, treated her right and bought her cute underwear. 

The only thing she failed at as a girlfriend was not loving her back.

“I love you,” She told her, naked, while Katya fiddled with her nipple ring. “Thought I should let you know.” Katya smiled and looked at her, hoping she wouldn’t notice the spark fading from her green eyes. She kissed Sharon tenderly and went down on her one last time before they went to sleep. She hoped Sharon knew that wasn’t an “I love you”, but a “thank you”. She hoped it was enough, even though Sharon’s love for her wasn’t.

Every time she kissed Sharon, the smell of cigarettes and the taste of coffee made her mind fly right back to Alexandra. It never felt like it ended, since they never really talked it through. One day Katya woke up and she was gone. Never returned a phone call. Never answered the e-mails. If anyone asked, never even knew anyone named Katya. Just a blank space, a void left to fill. That was Alexandra to her now, a hole in her heart, a feeling without a face and the reason she thought she had unlearned how to love. 

She fucked up with Sharon, all because of Alexandra. She couldn’t risk doing the same to Trixie. Fucking Trixie Mattel, with her big blue eyes and her slightly crooked teeth and her drunk giggle and sweet voice. Alexandra, a skinny little girl with a serious face and about thirty tattoos, seems now slightly boring if Katya dares say. Trixie’s a fucking ray of sunshine, not some artistic hipster with a serious caffeine addiction. Trixie’s smile could light up an entire city, her skin is so soft it feels like home and her wit is so quick you’ll miss it if you blink. To sum it up, Trixie’s nothing like Alexandra - she actually seems like the opposite of her, and for a while now, Katya has almost forgotten about that tiny void in her chest that is now partly filled by some pink glitter and a Chanel purse. I mean, she had until a notification popped up on her phone and all the glitter was suddenly gone, like everything else. Her mind went blank.

**Alexandra** **Dobrolyubov** **sent you a friend request.**

 

…

 

Things are not okay. Katya spends all of her Saturday night up, stalking the shit out of Alexandra’s Facebook profile and when the next morning comes she knows she will regret it deeply, but for now, she really needs something to be angry about. And, oh, it’s working. 

“She had a  _ kid _ , Adore! She used to hate children!” She yells as she clicks the pictures away.

“Yeah, but she also has a terrible taste in fashion and I bet that can’t be fucking cured, bitch…” Adore says, pointing at a pencil skirt in an unfortunate color.

“That’s probably her uniform from the  _ art gallery _ that she works at. Fuck, I can’t…” Katya shakes her head. “Hand me the ice cream,” she whimpers. Adore raises her eyebrows at Katya, disapprovingly, as she reaches for the Ben & Jerry’s. Few things hurt more than a disapproving look from a 23-year-old junkie who doesn’t wash her tights, knows how to cook an egg or has enough money to buy a pack of cigarettes. It’s humiliating. Right now, though, Katya couldn’t care less. Her dignity is buried deep in the ground, along with all of her will to live. Fuck.

It’s a tough feeling to realize you have wasted your life, to realize you’ve failed. It hurts. The insides of Katya’s chest ache and scream because she doesn’t want to admit that Alexandra has now the life they once dreamed of and planned to detail, but she never made it. And it hurts even more to see that she’d never fit in that life. It’s painful to watch someone you thought you’d grow old with growing without you and leave all that you’ve ever known together, all of it, behind. Still, more than that, it is angering. Because Alexandra made it and Katya didn’t. Why did Al deserve this more than her? That was meant to be  _ their _ future, not  _ her  _ future, and besides, she is the one who abandoned Katya when she needed her the most. She is the villain here, she  _ ruined _ Katya. If Alexandra hadn’t left, she would have healed from the shit show her parents threw at them, she would have sold her body and her soul if that was called for, she would have starved and she would have let the frozen air cut through her ribs without saying a word - all because she would know Alexandra was there for her. Because she’d know she was loved and, maybe just loving someone isn’t enough sometimes, but for Katya it always is. All she needed was for Alexandra to be there for her, but she wasn’t. She left like a coward because she saw a side of Katya that she didn’t like and that hurt more than the loathing from her own family, more than the starvation, more than the selling of her dignity to greasy men and more than the cold air striking her limbs in the winter. She wasn’t ready to forgive her just yet.

… But at the same time, she’s feeling that small spark of joy, right in the bottom of her heart, where she usually feels the void. Is that… Relief? The feeling that she can finally breathe again because she knows, after so many fucking years, that Alexandra turned out alright and honestly, that is what really matters. Loving someone and losing them is awful, but losing them into this kind of void when you are thoroughly oblivious of anything surrounding them and their life after you is a pain that burns slowly in your chest and makes you wonder if things have ever been real or if it’s all been in your head all along. There’s the constant doubt of whether life made you drift apart or if they wished for you to be gone. Katya has no answer to that yet, and right now she gives zero shits about it because Alexandra is alive and well and that consistent knocking on the back of her head wondering where she is now and how she’s doing has finally calmed the fuck down. She’s… glad? Yes, she  _ is _ glad. Mad and bitter, but glad. The wondering is over, she has her answer now. It’s liberating, knowing that she doesn’t have to think about Alexandra anymore. But she’s still mad. 

“You can’t stay angry forever,” Adore says. “How long has it been now? Almost ten years?”

“Actually, I can,” Katya replies, reading through Alexandra’s birthday posts from her friends. 

“Is it worth it, bitch?” What is Trixie gonna say when she sees you with that sour face, huh?” Adore steals a scoop of ice cream with a plastic spoon and raises her eyebrows. Katya looks at her, letting some air out through her nose.

“We,” she says, “are not bringing Trixie into this conversation. She is not a part of this mess like Sharon was - and it wasn’t even her fault, it was mine. I don’t wanna fuck it up with Trixie like I did with her.”

“Oh wow,” Adore licks the spoon clean. “I think someone here is falling for a certain brunette, getting all defensive and shit…”

“Well, yeah, Adore,” Katya places the laptop by her side and turns to her friend. “I am falling for her. And I’m can’t fucking wait until I’m able to take her out and kiss her and make her smile and fuck her brains out, but I gotta wait, alright?”

“Okay, sorry, Mrs. Mattel” Adore laughs.

“No, I’m serious. We are not bringing her into this. I’m not messing this up, Adore,” Katya says assertively and sighs. “Why are your eyes so wide? Don’t you think that Trixie deserves better?”

Adore, looking straight at the laptop screen, shakes her head. “Oh, it’s not that at all… You’re not gonna believe who just sent you a ‘hi stranger’ in those weird Russian letters.”

 

…

 

Katya spent the rest of her Saturday and Sunday talking to Alexandra and having to swallow the rest of her pride and dignity upon the realization that the woman who broke her heart has everything, literally everything they had ever dreamed of and more. The “more” is the kid. She would never have pictured her as a mother. How the fuck did she end up with a kid?

The talk itself was good. They caught up on what’s been happening the past few years, remembered the good times and even laughed at some old pictures Alexandra found, which happened to be the reason she decided to get in touch with Katya. God, she looks at herself in the photographs and she barely recognizes who she is. Her hair used to be longer, her body was thicker and her face healthier, her eyes reflected pure happiness and everything seemed perfect, except for their outfits. Yeah, those were tacky. 

It did, though, trouble Katya a little bit. Or a lot. It set an alarm to her mind, a constant siren ringing telling her she’s running out of time, she needs to get her shit together, get a raise, buy decent outfits, find a wife and have a kid herself. Tick tock, tick tock, tick fucking tock. Her anxiety, on Sunday night, rose to the top and kept whispering in her ear that she wouldn’t have time, she’d grow old alone and be found dead when some drug addicts invaded her apartment sometime in the near future. She has wrinkles, she has grey hairs, her tramp stamp is faded and sometimes she just can’t figure out her fucking iPhone, she just can’t. I’m getting old, she realized.

 

I’m getting old and I have nothing. I’m getting old and it’s terrifying. I’m getting old and I’m  _ not ready for this. _

Monday rolled around and she called in sick, gave in to her depression, smoked three packs of cigarettes in bed, listened to old records from Russian bands she used to like as a teenager and sketched the day away. When Adore knocked on her door, she yelled at her to go away, but thankfully her friend knows her well enough to barge in anyway, get into bed and cuddle her while she cried. 

“I’m gonna die alone,” Katya whimpered, “I’m gonna be eaten by own cats.”

“You’re allergic to cats,” Adore reminded her. 

“Oh, God, they’ll find me decomposed and eaten by  _ worms _ ,” she yelled. Adore sighed.

“No, you’re not. You’re gonna move out of this shithole apartment, get a nice lady to live with you and you guys might even adopt a dog,” she caressed Katya’s head. “I know you’re feeling awful, but I promise you’re gonna be fine.”

“Have I ever been fine?” Katya sobbed. “I’m a mess. An  _ old _ mess.”

“Shut up, girl. You’re thirty-five, not seventy,” she said. “You’re not too old to do any of the things you love, for example. You can paint, read your fucking art books, smoke your cigarettes… Talk about a certain curvy girl...” She whispered the last part. Katya ignored it. 

“And what has any of that ever done for me? I never became a successful painter, I became an  _ art teacher.  _ At a  _ high school. _ ” Katya turned herself away from Adore, who spooned her. It’s her way of letting her know she’s not going anywhere. “I was an addict. I was a hooker, then a stripper and I’m thirty-five years old and I’ve never bought a pan or a chair.”

“First of all, we don’t use the  _ a _ word in this house. You were ill, and you overcame it, and I’m very proud of you,” Adore kissed the top of Katya’s head. “Two, being a sex worker is just a job. Sometimes it’s an awful one, but you don’t have to worry about that anymore. And also, who said being a high school teacher is bad? Bitch, look how far you’ve come. I know you love your job and you love those kids, don’t lie to me.”

“I do,” she smiled. 

“Plus, the only reason you don’t have your house yet is that you agreed to live with me, in the worst apartment of all times, just so I could save up for my surgery.” Adore rested her chin on Katya’s head. “I don’t think that ex-girlfriend of yours would ever do that for a friend. I doubt most people we know would, and that says a lot about you. Thanks.”

“Alright, I’m convinced. I’m not a bad person, this is just… circumstance,” Katya faced Adore again and she nodded;. 

“You’re just having a bad day. It’s gonna be better tomorrow, okay?” Adore smiled, pinched her cheek and sat up. “Now, let’s order some fucking pizza or what?”

It’s gonna be better tomorrow, Katya thought. All of this will be gone by tomorrow. 

… Only it wasn’t. She barely got any sleep that night, which meant staying up until four, staring at her ceiling and wondering if it’s too late in life to get her nose pierced. Katya obviously overslept and left for school at eight, the time she’s supposed to be there with Trixie to run the day’s plan by and discuss any matter. Trixie’s not one to anger easily, but the one thing Katya knows that always grinds her gears is people being late. She’s very screwed, 

“You’re late.” The brunette announces, as soon as she steps into the auditorium, her voice as dry as desert sand and as mean as a sixteen-year-old cheerleader. Trixie doesn’t even turn to her, but Katya knows exactly what her face looks like and it’s  _ not pretty _ . She knows her well enough to know that her eyes are slightly squinted, her lips puckered and one of her eyebrows is raised. She gulps when she notices everyone’s look of affliction towards her like they feel sorry. Sharon’s in the corner drinking her coffee and she looks, if anything, entertained. Screwfest is about to begin.

“Sorry, Trixie, I…” She starts, after leaving her purse on a front row seat. The brunette finally turns to her and Katya isn’t happy to find out she got that facial expression completely right.

“Now is  _ not  _ the time for excuses. What kind of rubbish do you think this is? Coming in late, not caring about your duties here… What is going on, Katya? Get yourself together, think a little bit about being more considerate of your responsibilities, and go check the plan,  _ then  _ we talk,” Trixie says. She turns back to the stage and crosses her arms. “And why did  _ you _ stop?” She claps. “Come on, on your marks…”

Katya walks, in fact, nearly stumbles her way to the desk in front of the stage, cheeks as red as her lipstick and reads through the program. Suddenly, the smell of smoke invades her lungs and she turns to look at Sharon.

“You, my friend, look like you’ve been run over by a truck,” she says and takes a sip of her coffee.

Katya blinks slowly and sighs. She’s exhausted, but having Trixie yell at her lit some kind of fire under her ass and now her heart is beating too fast to let her eyelids feel heavy.

“I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck too,” she answers. “You have no idea who the fuck decided to show back up in my life.”

“That one stalker you had in Boston?” Sharon raises her brows, the shadow of a smile peeks from her lips.

“Worse. Alexandra.” She sighs again, then shakes her head. “I haven’t fucking slept in two days.”

“Fuck, is that serious?” Sharon places her hands down on the desk and furrows her brow. “Shit. I’m sorry. How are you?”

“About to fucking die,” Katya says, unintentionally louder. Trixie looks over at her with one of her very pissed teacher looks that only she can do. “Sorry,” she mouths at her and then looks back at Sharon. “I’ve been having a fucking crisis since Saturday night.”

“How… How is she doing?” Sharon bites her lip. She looks actually sorry and Katya hates it. If Sharon Needles feels sorry for her, it’s past the point she should’ve jumped off a cliff.

“See, that’s my problem. She’s doing really good.” Katya gestures over to the row of seats a few steps away from them. “Should we…”

“Yeah,” Sharon agrees and they make their way over.

“She has her dream job. She has a wife and a nice house in Moscow. She has a kid,” Katya shrugs. “And she apologized. She said I’ve been… what’s the word? Like when a ghost follows you?”

“Haunting?” Sharon raises her eyebrows.

“Yes. She said I’ve been haunting her brain for the past years, especially because she never saw me around the university or the city anymore.” Katya lets some air out through her nose in a half-hearted laugh. “She even tried my parents.”

Sharon’s chin almost drops. “Oh, wow. I think she must have been feeling like shit,” she says.

Katya nods. “She has. And part of me is just… Glad. I feel like it’s finally over, you know?”

Sharon nods very slowly and purses her lips. “I do.” Katya frowns.

“I’m an asshole, fuck. Sorry. I just… Sorry.”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to worry about me forever, you know? We’re past all of that bullshit,” Sharon reassures.

“I… I think I literally used every single apology that I know in this language with you and it’s still not enough,” she shrugs and then crosses her legs and arms. “And it’s fine if you don’t forgive me. I get it.”

“I think I forgave you already, I’m not sure when, but I did. We’re alright. We’re friends.” Sharon reaches out to touch Katya’s shoulder. “Besides, I moved on.”

“I didn’t know you had a new girlfriend,” Katya furrows her brow and smiles.

“Oh, I do, it’s even been a while. Her name’s Alaska. She’s amazing, brilliant and she calls me Noodles, can you believe that shit?” Sharon smiles wide. 

“I actually can’t,” Katya shakes her head and laughs.

“Me fucking neither. She really loves me, and after all of the fucked up stuff that went on between us, I needed someone just like her. She’s not from around here, though, she’s from Worcester. I’m moving in with her at the end of the year.”

“This is great news, Sharon,” Katya gives her a friendly squeeze on the shoulder as well, trying to think about who would be the girl to break down the wall she had built around herself after their breakup, who would not let herself be intimidated by Sharon’s looks and manners and who would finally give this woman everything Katya couldn’t and everything she deserves. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Me too,” Sharon smiles. “But I honestly think  _ your  _ girlfriend is going to murder us if we don’t shut up right now,” she says and gestures to the brunette with her head. She looks furious, her hair is messy and the bags under her eyes are huge. This time of the year looks heavy on everyone, but no one has had it as hard as Trixie.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Katya whispers, as she takes a quick note about Laila misstepping that one part of the dance Trixie has already explained to her ten times. They’re gonna have to change that somehow, it’s too impractical for the kid to manage such quick steps in so little time.

“And I have no idea why.” Sharon sips her coffee and they look at each other. “I could lock you in here again if you think that’ll solve it.”

“Needles, don’t even dream about it,” they laugh. For the first time since things ended between them, Katya is sure she didn’t lose Sharon. She may have lost a girlfriend, but she still has a friend. Maybe that’s exactly what they were meant to be all along.

…  
  


“Alright, nerds, I’ll have a five-page essay on the interpretations of Picasso’s best-known pieces, you’ll find your sources and references on our Facebook group and you have exactly 24 hours to hand it in. Let the games begin, Мудак, go go go.” Katya says as she walks into the classroom later that day and drops five heavy books on her desk, watching her students grunt and curse and moan as they open their laptops and their books, she can feel the hate coming from them. Good. Hateful students have a fire lit under their asses and will do anything not to get stuck in her summer classes. Less work for them, less work for her - they’ll make sure to hand in perfect papers to avoid the risk of being stuck with crazy Ms. Zamolodchikova, who curses in Russian and may or may not be part of the actual mafia. She sits down, crosses her legs and smiles. Today is going a lot better than she had planned. 

Talking to Sharon seemed to be the thing to actually calm her down from her small existential crisis caused by Alexandra, to make her realize she’s not stuck in this life, this is just the circumstances. Eventually, things will fall into place, just like it happened to her ex-girlfriends, and she’ll have herself a nice home, a nice wife and some nice paintings on the walls. If Sharon can do it, she can do it. And she motherfucking will.

She’s already planning everything in her head. A nice two-bedroom apartment, a balcony with a nice view, a fucking television on the wall and a shower that will actually heat up without any tears. A wife who will help her make breakfast while they’re still in pajamas, who will kiss her goodnight and will take her on dates. A nice looking lady with a good sense of humor and sexy-looking lingerie, that’s all she asks for. She, Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova herself is now making a vow to settle down before she turns forty, and she needs to start working on that right now. 

“Ms. Zamo?” Laila asks, knocking on her desk. “Hello?”

Katya comes back down to Earth and sits straight on the chair where she has previously been leaning on. “Yes, Laila? What is it?”

“I was just gonna ask if we can use any of these,” she points to the heavy books on the desk, “as a reference on our paper. Dax wants to know but she’s too anxious to come to the front.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she removes the first and the second one from the pile and hands her the one with Guernica on the cover. “She can give it back tomorrow, you guys can even make copies if you’d like.”

“Thanks,” Laila says and turns to leave but hesitates for a second and turns back on her heels. “Is everything alright with you and Ms. Mattel?”

Katya furrows her brow. “Sure it is, why do you ask?”

Laila shrugs. “We all know how she gets at this time of the year, especially now with the musical, but I noticed you were kinda down today too. Not to mention the yelling.”

“Well, yes..” Katya starts, but Laila isn’t finished.

“I just worried you guys might have broken up or something.”

“I’m sorry, what?” She asks, raising her eyebrows.

“I don’t know, Ms. Zamo, I worried about you guys.” She shrugs. “Is that invasive?”

“No, Laila… Trixie… Sorry, Ms. Mattel and I are not a couple.” She explains, red as a pepper. Thank fucking God no one else is paying attention to this act of public humiliation. 

“Oh,” the girl says. She then furrows her brow. “Why not? Everyone thinks you two are a thing.”

“Oh, my… They do?”

“Um, yeah? The yearbook kids are gonna make you two couple of the year…” she frowns. “Maybe I should let them know. The whole lesbian love affair was a great story, though. You know the whole drama with the breakup with that Elswood guy… Some say it’s because you guys were together and tired of lies and that’s why he hit her or something.”

“We’re not together,” Katya reinforces. “There is no lesbian love affair and please show some respect to Trixie’s situation. Her fiancé was an abusive son of a bitch and them breaking up has nothing to do with me.”

Laila puts her hands up as if she surrenders. “Alright, I get it, geez. I didn’t know you’d be upset.”

“I’m not upset, kid,” Katya says. “I just didn’t see this coming. Ms. Mattel and I are not romantically involved at all.”

“Really? Oh well. Then maybe you should ask her out. She’s obviously into you.”

“What?” Katya thought she was already blushing hard enough, but this seriously is a new record.

“Yeah, ask her out,” Laila shrugs again. “Just go like ‘hey, would you like to go get a coffee sometime?’ or whatever it is people your age say.”

“People my age don’t discuss their dating life with people  _ your _ age, Ms. McQueen,” Katya points out. She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but she just can’t be mad at this kid, she fucking can’t.

“I think if you did, you’d have a girlfriend by now,” she pouts and shrugs again and God why do teenagers shrug so much. She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Thanks for the book.”

Katya wants to scream out in frustration and shame for being cornered about her singleness by a student. She wants to laugh because the scene must have been hilarious to watch. She wants to crawl inside of a hole and stay there until the world ends because apparently her feelings are a lot more transparent than she thought they were. She wants to give Laila detention for being right and also for being an asshole. There’s a lot of things she wants to do right now, as you can see, but above all, she wants to kiss her dignity goodbye because she is about to take dating advice from a sixteen-year-old punk with purple hair. 

 

…

 

Katya finds Trixie alone in the auditorium, sitting down on a chair and resting her head on the desk. If her hair were still long and blonde, it would look like a cloud spreading over the table, but now it only looks like a sad monster trying to eat her head but being about to give up. She hears a groan and the woman lifts her head.

“No, Sharon, we are not doing the Nightwish vocal version of the theme song, I told you that at least five thousand times today,” she says.

“I have no idea what Nightwish is,” Katya says, and Trixie turns to her, “but I’m sure you make better music-related choices than Sharon.” Trixie sighs.

“Sorry, I didn’t know it was you,” she says and buries her face in her hands. “Everything is a mess right now.”

“Not everything, doll, your makeup is still flawless,” Trixie blushes when she lifts her head and Katya smiles at her. “How are you holding up?”

“Barely,” she answers. “I thought after the papers got through it would all be smooth, but I was wrong. It’s only gotten worse. Plus, the musical and the end of the semester… I’m exhausted. I’m literally about to cry because of an ugly costume dress that doesn’t fit fucking Brittany because she lost ten pounds thanks to cheerleading.”

“I’m sorry things are so hard for you right now,” Katya sits on the desk, right in front of Trixie.

“No, things are not just hard, things are going to hell. This has got to be the worst time of my life. The actual worst.”

“I know it’s bad, but you’ll get through it, I know it. It’s not the end of the world,” Katya says with a kind smile. Trixie looks so tired depressed she feels like walking her home to make sure she isn’t going to fall asleep while driving or something. The only Gucci bags on her right now are under her eyes.

“It is. Think about absolutely everything, and anything, that could go wrong with your life,” Trixie says, “because this is what’s happening to me only it’s times ten. I haven’t washed my hair in three days. That is a lot. I’m officially losing it.”

Katya doesn’t know what to say anymore. She has never seen Barbie like this, and right now, as she lets one of her students guide actions that might strongly impact her life, she might not be in her best moment as well, so she thinks ‘to hell with being careful’, jumps to her feet and walks around the chair until she’s behind Trixie.

“You, ma’am, need to get your head off things for a while.” She touches her shoulders very softly and starts moving her hands slowly but with a strong grasp. The brunette lets her head fall back and she smiles in response to the touch.

“Jesus, you’re good at this,” she says, eyes closed. Katya smiles.

“You’re really stressed, Barbie. I just wanna help you relax a bit,” Katya responds with a lower voice she than what would have normally used. “Come on, you can talk to me about things.”

“You’re amazing,” she says. “I’m so sorry I yelled at you earlier. I was just… it’s just been too much.”

“It’s alright, you have to let it go,” Katya moves her hands up, closer to Trixie’s neck and she hears the girl breathe a little heavier after letting a small moan out.

“Katya, yeah, that’s… That’s the spot. You’re  _ really _ good at this,” she says. You should see what else I’m good at, Katya thinks. “I just… There’s so much to do and I feel, oh yeah, there, I feel so helpless all of the time, I feel like I’m just roaming with no direction…”

“You always do so much, Trixie… You carry a lot of things on your shoulders all of the time. It’s okay to ask for help, you know?” Katya works her thumbs on her neck. “I’m here for you. Please trust me.”

“I do, I trust you,” she responds. Trixie is holding on to the chair tightly, like she’s trying to keep her hands from traveling elsewhere, but her shoulders don’t hold even a little bit of tension to them. Katya likes the way this is going.

“Let me do something for you then,” she proposes. “I think you deserve something nice after all this hard work you’ve been doing, Barbie.”

Trixie doesn’t seem to be in full control right now. She has let herself go under Katya’s touch, which seems to have worked almost like a spell, and now she has one hand holding the chair, another on her thigh, nails carving into her skin, goosebumps all over her arms and her neck, eyes closed, and quiet, eventual moans escaping through her teeth. Seeing her like this would have driven Katya insane on any day, but the idea that she did that with her bare hands, and barely even touching her, makes her proud and perhaps a little wet, just imagining what she could do to this girl if she had her all to herself, no holding back and using more than just her hands. She wants to make Trixie lose control completely, she wants to feel every inch of her skin, she wants her to scream out in pleasure and have her body squirm with anticipation. The thought of it, of all of this, momentarily takes Katya off guard and suddenly she thinks back to the little fit she’s had this weekend and her heart skips a bit, because when she pictures herself back in that apartment that she’d been imagining earlier in class, she sees Trixie right there beside her and she wants it so, so bad. 

This is, probably, the wrong moment to get caught off guard and betrayed by your own brain. Her face is close to Trixie’s ear, her breath hot on the girl's neck makes her whimper just a little bit and her hand is traveling slowly down her chest, dangerously close to her breasts. Fuck, she needs something. If she doesn’t say something right now, she’s gonna miss the shot one more time and she can’t afford this, not again. She fishes for words in the back of her mind, where the image of her and the girl on the chair making breakfast together in their pajamas is still framed, and the only thing she manages to stutter out, for her own despair is “would you like to go for a coffee some time?”

God fucking damn Laila McQueen and her fucking purple hair, Katya hopes it falls off. Trixie sits up straight, turns back around and, brow furrowed in disbelief, lets her mouth fall open. “Are you fucking kidding me?”


	11. Part 4 - i'll wear my third degrees and my heart upon my sleeve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys!!!! I am sad!!!!   
> This is officially almost ending and i'm not dealing with it very well right now lmaooooo  
> Next chapter will be the last :( but there might be an epilogue after because apparently I have "attachment issues" or something, idk. Anyway, send me au ideas on [my tumblr](http://highonbrunost.tumblr.com/) please because I'm officially on vacation after next week and that means free time to write!!   
> I hope you guys enjoy this and thank you so so much for reading and being the best people ever!

When Trixie gets home, later that day, she is still slightly catatonic. She doesn’t get out of the car immediately, but instead rests her head on the steering wheel for ten minutes and tries not to think about how much her head hurts. She had, up until this point, considered Katya some kind of bold bitch who is not afraid to say what she means and will very likely punch you in the face for no reason other than she just feels like it. 

Apparently, she was wrong. Katya is just a dork with really bad timing, she learned. Ugh. Why does she have to look so good while making an absolute fool out of herself, though?

Trixie slowly, very slowly, gets out of her orange SUV and drags her Louis Vuitton along with her, kicking her heels off as soon as she steps on the concrete floor in front of her garage. Her feet hurt like a bitch and if she were half as bold as Katya she would wear flats to work. She wants to, but she knows herself way too well to know she wouldn’t dare. The only flats she owns are either workout shoes or summer sandals - other than that, all of her shoes are at least 3 inches tall, but she lives for her designer sky-high stilettos. Beauty is pain, after all. A pain in the ass, that is. 

She unlocks the door trying to balance both her shoes and her files in her arms but drops everything to the floor as soon as she enters the house. The polished wooden floor is now a mess of sheets and pens. She grunts and throws herself down on the couch, which she bought only a few months ago and right now it feels like the best decision she has ever made in her entire lifetime, leaving Ian included. Nothing tops a good couch, absolutely nothing. There, she naps unintentionally for about seven minutes and when she wakes up her head hurts even more. Trixie hates the end of the semester. 

 

**To: Kim**

**Do u wanna come over to watch tv and eat pizza and drink a lot of wine**

 

**From: Kim**

**Trixie it’s wednesday**

 

**To: Kim**

**So?**

 

**From: Kim**

**So that Chinese is cheaper today. I’ll be there in 20 and I’m bringing the wine**

 

Said and done, Kim arrived with a bottle of cheap supermarket wine and Trixie has already changed into her pajamas, gathered all of the paper mess she made before and ordered their food, which arrives fifteen minutes later. John is the delivery boy, again. How many jobs does this guy have?

“You’re not okay, are you?” Kim dares to ask, even though she already knows the answer. Trixie is sitting on a stool and has her head down on the counter. 

“No,” she answers as Kim looks for wine glasses. Trixie lifts her head. “Katya asked me out.”

Kim shuts the cupboard door way too fast as she turns to face her. “Oh, my God, you have a date!” She smiles wide and raises her arms in celebration.

“No, I don’t,” Trixie says as she watches Kim’s expression change not so swiftly. “I said no.”

“You did what?” Her friend asks, setting down the wine glasses. Trixie did suggest they used plastic cups but Kim said it would be too ratchet, even for her, which definitely made her frown thinking about how did she let herself get so down that she thought drinking supermarket wine on a Red Solo cup would be okay. Once again, Trixie hates the end of the semester.

“I told her it was obviously not the right time, that we have to wait at least until the musical is over because until then I will need all of my time and energy,” Trixie replies. “Which, by the way, I don’t have a lot of at the moment.”

“Bullshit,” Kim says. “As if you didn’t feel a sudden spark of energy when she came talk to you, I know you did. Say whatever you want about work and lawsuits, etc, the one thing on your mind at all times is that bitch with the loose screws.”

Kim pours the wine as Trixie fiddles with her pink chopsticks that she bought in New York’s Chinatown but tells everyone it’s from her trip to Japan. She actually didn’t buy any souvenirs when she went there because Ian was being a bitch all of the time. She takes a mental note to go back to Japan one day and buy literally anything pretty that she sees. “Well, yes, I do want us to be together, but… Not when I feel like crap? I wanna do it right, and so does she and this is why we have to wait.”

“You don’t get to time shit like this.” Kim bites her spring roll.

“Not only I do but I will,” Trixie raises her eyebrows. “I have timed every single event of my life so far and Katya will not be an exception. It needs to be perfect. After all, I do have a certain baggage and… I don’t know. I need to make sure that I’m ready and that’s she’s ready as well.”

“I don’t believe in being ready,” Kim says. “I wasn’t ready to be an adult when I left my house but if I had waited for the right time… I would never have left. There is no such thing as the right time Trixie. There is do or don’t.”

“Well yeah it’s easy for you to say that because you haven’t even talked to your mother since you were eighteen,” she starts, “but I only just broke up with Ian. I still have nightmares and all.” She sighs. “I’m just worried about how that would affect… us? You know, if I’ll flinch every time she raises her hand, or if I will have a panic attack because the dinner seasoning isn’t good, I might literally just start crying if she speaks too loud around me and it’s not her fault.”

“Well it’s not yours either,” Kim says, sipping her wine. “It’s Ian’s. And if you wanna know it, yeah, you  _ will _ do all of that and it’s not gonna be pretty. It’s never pretty to have been abused, but Katya knows that and she will help you through it, that’s what good partners do.”

Trixie purses her lips. “You’re right. Anyone who is a good partner would do that.” Trixie lets out a long sigh. “I can’t believe I’m already talking about her as a fucking partner, we haven’t even kissed yet.”

Kim smiles. “You might have been closer to that but you just shut her out again,” she shrugs.

“Yeah, if she had said anything but  _ let’s get some fucking coffee _ I might have said yes, but it just ruined the moment, you have no idea. Katya is such a dork.”

“I think she was nervous because every time you guys were getting close to something you were drunk,” Kim theorizes, “so nothing was gonna happen anyway. Also, it’s a little more complicated than that. She’s trying to be respectful of your situation, but you keep sending her all of these mixed signals, pushing then pulling back.”

“Do you think I make her nervous?” Trixie furrows her brow. She didn’t even pay attention to the rest of what Kim said, and her friend knows it, so she rolls her eyes.

“Absolutely,” Kim laughs. “You’re a 5’6 curvy woman with the nicest ass in this state and you look so gorgeous that fucking Gisele Bündchen would think twice about standing next to you. Plus, you are very sassy  _ and _ you have a great sense of humor. Dream woman right there, you make me wish I were gay.”

“Well, thanks, but still… It’s not about me, it’s about her being so unapologetic and out there all of the time… Nothing intimidates her! Ever!”

“Consider this: maybe feelings scare her because she hasn’t felt this way about someone in a long time,” Kim suggests, “and she just doesn’t wanna blow it with you.”

“Yeah, she’s told me that before,” Trixie agrees.

“I think it’s just that. I think you’re unconsciously making this effort to wait it out, not only because of you but because of her too. So she can probably like… Settle into the idea?”

“Probably. I don’t know. Feelings are complicated,” she says. “I wish we could just, I don’t know, be into someone and just live with that without having to make a big deal.”

“Can I ask you a very invasive question? You fucked other girls before, right?” Trixie nods, brow furrowed in confusion. “How sober were you during these events?”

Trixie’s cheeks grow pinker than her blush. “Not very, but that was just college in a nutshell.”

“And so that means even though you have had sex with other women, you’ve never really been in a relationship with one before…”

“Well, yes… I mean, not real, serious relationships, only dates and...” Trixie says and then, bam, it hits her. “But she has and she doesn’t wanna pressure me, of course.” Trixie slaps her own forehead. “She wants a relationship with me.”

“Yeah, not to mention all of the time you spent with Ian,” Kim suggests. “You’re obviously still going through a lot because of that.”

“Fuck. Should I feel like I’m fucking this up?” Trixie asks. “Like it’s my fault that we have to make such a big deal out of everything?”

“No, but I get why you do. And it’s not,” Kim says. “You’re not doing anything wrong, and I’m sure Katya doesn’t mind it. In fact, she is the one making sure you guys take it slow…”

“Sometimes I wish she didn’t, though.” Trixie sips on her wine. “I wish she would just kiss me out of nowhere and fucking pin me against a wall or something.”

“Well, you kinky bitch, you do wanna go straight to the tit touching, don’t you?” Kim laughs and so does Trixie, blushing through her layers and layers of untouched makeup, even though it’s been a whole day. Kim’s work is flawless. “If that’s about being horny, I can give you Naomi’s number, you know. She still asks about you.”

Trixie rolls her eyes and throws her head back in laughter. “No, oh my God! Fuck, I didn’t even remember her name.”

“She doesn’t remember your face very well, but the rest of you, according to her, is unforgettable,” they laugh. “Okay, the real deal now: Katya tried to make her move and you threw her off. She won’t be trying that again for a while.”

“I fucking blew it,” Trixie whines, chewing her noodles.

“Maybe not, though…” Kim looks at her. Trixie keeps chewing her food.

“What?”

“Maybe, if you think you don’t want to wait anymore, just don’t?” Kim suggests. “Like, kiss her out of nowhere and see where it takes you.”

“I have absolutely no balls for that,” Trixie says.

“You do and they are F cups,” Kim responds, raising her brows. Trixie rolls her eyes. “I’m not being literal, I mean that if you take action, it could maybe surprise you. This woman is one in a million, Trix. She  _ is _ willing to wait for you but maybe you’re not willing to deal with your feelings yet. It’s like ripping a band-aid. Just fucking do it.”

Trixie sighs and sips on her wine. They change topics and talk about Kim’s other friends from Boston and about her job. Later, they sit on the couch and watch Keeping Up With the Kardashians reruns and laugh until their stomachs hurt, like two high school girls having a sleepover. When Kim leaves and Trixie decides it’s time for bed, she lies down in her room, which is lit only by her bedside table light. 

She thinks about Katya, as usual. She thinks about kissing her and being kissed back, and she thinks about her smell of old perfume and cigarettes that she still can’t understand how come she would ever find that attractive, but she does. She thinks about being out in the street, hand in hand, she thinks about coming home and getting eaten out, she thinks about picking outfits together for their dates and everything looks so vivid in her head that for a second she needs to remind herself that none of it is real. 

She wants to be with Katya and she wants the full ride, she wants the heated arguments and the makeup sex, she wants the dinner dates and the nights in, she wants the “who’s washing the dishes tonight?” and the “no, baby, you go sit down, I got this”, she wants the lazy morning sex and the late nights kinky energy. She wants the Christmas tree decorating and the silly anniversary celebration. She wants the fighting over the radio, winning and then giving in just to see the other smile. She wants the expensive vacations in Málaga or Barbados along with her parents, just to stay out in the sun and eat fish all day wearing only their swimsuits and texting each other dirty, filthy things in anticipation for when they get back to their hotel room and…

Oh. 

OH.

That… Is a detail Trixie had forgotten about and realizing it makes her shoot her eyes open and stop breathing for a few seconds. She breathes in and out slowly, trying to calm down, but she can already tell it’s gonna be another long night as she thinks about her parents and the slight omission of her liking of, you know, girls. She grabs the pillow next to her and holds it over her face to muffle a scream. 

Long, long night ahead.

…

Trixie had always been close to her mother, Judy, even as a teenager. They would go shopping every Friday after school, drive to Boston to watch musicals and gossip about the wives of her father’s friends and their failed plastic surgery procedures. Trixie always told her everything: Judy knew about her first kiss, about the time she crashed her new car, about every time she went to a party and ended up drunk and throwing up on somebody’s porch (or the one time it was in somebody’s Porsche and things got real ugly), about that Ian boy from the football team flirting with her during cheer practice and asking her to go to prom, etc.

Once, Trixie came home crying after cheer practice because some girls told her she was too fat to be a cheerleader. Her mother, who coincidentally was the leader of the school board, told her everything would be alright and that these girls were nothing for her to worry about - God made her perfect, just the way she was supposed to be, and no skinny cheerleader had the power to make God second-guess his choices. On the following week, when they received their new costumes for the season, which had coincidentally been ordered by Judy, Trixie’s fit like a glove: she could jump, run and cartwheel all she wanted and it looked great, she felt empowered and beautiful. Meanwhile, every single one of the girls who she had said called her fat could barely move their arms inside of theirs, which had accidentally come two sizes too small. Bad, bad coincidence, of course.  

After she went to college, though, things changed. On the first week, they called each other and talked every day, talking about how was it going or the gossip from back home. But then, Trixie, who had always been a good kid, despite the partying and drinking in her earlier teens, started doing some... Well, some bad things. 

Don’t get me wrong: her grades were always A+, she showed up to every single class no matter how hungover and all of the professors had something nice to say about her at the end of every semester. She did goddamn volunteer work, she was the leader of the drama club and how, after you know she was still a model citizen and student, could she do anything bad, you ask?

Trixie started going on dates and kissing girls. A lot of dates and a lot of girls. Not only kissing them but also getting fucked, many times and in different levels of sobriety. 

She knew that was something her mother would not approve of, something nasty and dirty. Sinful, even. Sex was meant to be holy, between a man and a woman who love each other and have waited until marriage to consummate this love, she had learned. She wondered how would her mother react upon learning that her daughter’s virginity was lost to some shots of tequila and a dildo at a sorority house party. She wondered how the disappointment, if not the anger, would look like on Judy’s face if she ever mentioned names like Clara, Michelle or Pamela. Stacy, Beth or Anna. 

Or Katya. 

Trixie thought her mother would never love a sinful creature like herself, and so she slowly, very slowly started to shut Judy out, after she realized this whole “kissing girls but also boys” things wasn’t going away and it seemed to be part of her, to have been all along. This is part of how she became the excellent liar that she is. But maybe she’s had enough of it. 

After the whole Ian deal, Trixie realized being a good liar is in no way a good quality, and therefore she has been trying to reestablish the honesty and openness she used to have with her parents once upon a time. First, she consulted her therapist on how to fix this broken and messed up relationship they had been having for a while and the advice was to start small, perhaps just being completely honest about her current feelings and emotions was enough - and it was. 

Then she started telling them about her feelings in certain specific situations and moments and they remained alway calm and accepting. It didn’t take long for Trixie to feel like she could really open up to them about nearly anything, and coming out started coming into question a while ago. Mrs. Davis told her she didn’t have to rush with such big news, everything has its time and when the time comes, it just comes. She should feel safe and comfortable with a discussion like this before ever thinking about telling her parents she’s bisexual, and she knows for a fact, if she were still with Ian, they would have died without this information. And right here, right now, during their weekly family dinner, Trixie doesn’t plan on saying anything - at least not for now.

She wants to, though. She feels like after everything that has gone on with the big asshole in her life, she owes them honesty, she owes them the right of knowing how she’s feeling and she owes them their daughter back, however gay she might be. Just not now. Maybe when things aren’t as messy.

“How are things with the school production, dear?” Mr. Mattel asks. He cuts a piece of his tough, nearly raw beef - “that’s what real man eat” - and chews it rather loudly. He’s not really a speaker but Trixie knows how he’s been trying to make her feel like she can talk to them. Sometimes, he will randomly text her during the day saying things like “i hope you are having a nice day remember to smile and be happy i love you honey many hugs please come have dinner with us”, no punctuation at all.

Trixie smiles, fiddling with her food. “I always love doing this, but it’s been so stressful! I haven’t slept very well at night and I’m basically running on coffee twenty-four seven. The kids are doing great and it’s absolutely coming out perfect, but I feel like there’s still a long way to go and I can’t see the finish line.”

“Oh, honey, you do sound very stressed, maybe we should take Saturday off and drive to that nice spa near Boston? What was it called again?” Trixie’s mother asks. “Trixie? Honey?”

But she isn’t paying attention. She’s looking down at her phone, which just vibrated with an incoming text, blushing as red as a pepper and smiling like an idiot. 

 

**From: Katya Zamo**

**Hi we haven’t really talked since that thing and I want to say I’m sorry about it**

 

**From: Katya Zamo**

**Like I’m not sorry about asking you out and I’m totally planning on trying that again but I’m sorry for being such an asshole and not having a very good timing**

 

**From: Katya Zamo**

**I’m also sorry I’m so awkward? There was a total mood going on and I really fucked up**

 

**From: Katya Zamo**

**Maybe let me know when it’s okay to ask you out again? I’ll come running, I swear. You don’t meet someone quite like you every day so… Guess I better hold on while I still have a chance**

 

**From: Katya Zamo**

**Do I still have a chance?**

 

“Trixie!” Judy raises her voice and then clears her throat. Trixie looks up, still smiling with her cheeks just as red as they were before.

“Yeah? Sorry, I uh… I got distracted.”

“I see…” her mom replies. “I was just asking about that spa in Boston, but nevermind that, what I want to know now is if this distraction happens to have a name?”

“What? No, I…” Trixie starts, stuttering and feeling her neck and ears growing red as well. Her father laughs.

“Oh, come on honey. It’s been a few months since the whole deal with Ian, and you’re an adult, it’s not like you’re not allowed to date!”

“It’s even healthy for you,” her mother complements. “Get your head off all of this for a bit, you know?”

“Oh, no, my head is totally in this right now, in fact…” Trixie starts, but her mother hits her with a classic eyebrow raise.

“No topic changing, Beatrix. Tell us about this  _ distraction _ of yours.” Both of her parents set their cutlery down on their plates and wait, patiently for her to begin. She sighs.

“Well, it’s certainly nothing official…” she hopes to throw them off, but they happen to look even more interested. She’s sweating. She’s sweating like a whore in church. “It’s really not official, we haven’t even been on a date yet.”

“Well, that’s interesting… How have you met, then?” Judy inquires. Trixie gulps.

“Through work. We’re actually good friends and it’s just started, you know, developing into something else.” Good friends? In the beginning of the term, Trixie had five different ideas on how to make it look like it was suicide, how did they even go from there to… whatever this is?

“Your mother and I used to be like that too, you know? Friends turned to lovers, and look where that got us, right honey?” Arthur says and holds Judy close, kissing the top of her head. Nice. Her parents are already planning her wedding again, apparently.

“Calm down, we haven’t even been on a date yet, I told you!” Trixie tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, but it doesn’t stay there because it’s too short. “I don’t know how this is even going to go, don’t get ahead of yourselves!”

As a matter of fact, her parents are only about as eager as she is about Katya, but she’ll never tell. 

“Well, what’s his name?” Judy asks. 

“Oh, no,” Trixie thinks out loud. “I don’t think this is a good idea, you’re making it too big of a deal,” she says, as if she has ever not done a big deal out of anything. She’s the queen of big deals, everything is a big deal in Mattel World.

“Well, if it’s no big deal than what’s the problem, honey?” her mother asks.

“We’re really glad to see you happy,” the father says, “we’re just curious to know who’s been putting such a pretty smile on your face, dear.”

There’s silence. Her parents blink their eyes slowly at her, rest their chins on their hands and bite their lips, anxious, barely being able to contain themselves. No, no, no… This isn’t going how Trixie planned it at all! This shouldn’t be happening right now, none of this should be happening today… Ugh. Okay, breathe in, breathe out. She’s turning this around. She’s finding a way, she just has to think of a name… Luke? Matt? Jason? Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. And fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Her name’s Katya,” Trixie says, with the absolute blankest facial expression she has. For a second her parents stop blinking. “She’s working with me in the musical… Yeah. Katya Zamolodchikova. She’s Russian.” Trixie shrugs, as if it weren’t a big deal and it was just like she said “oh yes, I’d love some tea” even though she knows her heart is racing so fast it’s about to break out of her chest. 

“Oh, my…” her mother says. “It’s a she.”

 

…

 

Rehearsals, which are usually Trixie’s favorite part of a musical, are starting to get worse and worse as the time goes. Everyone is tired, there are too many finals and the Massachusetts weather in mid December is no help either: it’s freezing cold and Trixie often finds herself dreaming of warm, sunny Spain. Or maybe the Bahamas? She doesn’t know, anywhere she doesn’t have to wear her fake fur or wool coats is good enough, Texas and Florida included. Maybe not Texas. Yeah, nevermind Texas.   
Today is their last rehearsal before Christmas break and Trixie is really wondering whether it is a good idea to let these kids go without practice for all this time but they have been on it since the beginning of the school year, literally practicing every day of the week for an hour and a half - they have been good kids, they deserve a break... and so do their teachers. Trixie counted her packs and Katya has been smoking more than her usual, and it looks like she’s been sleeping a lot less too, but she doesn’t seem to care much about the bags under her eyes. In fact, Trixie thinks she’s past the point of caring about anything at all since she’s now being cranky and moody all of the time. 

Well, that’s until she comes talk to Trixie, then her eyes glimmer and she smiles wide and her cheeks go from white to pink and she even softens her accent. It’s honestly adorable, and it’s become quite a show for everyone. Trixie especially loves this interaction in such a way that makes her heart beat faster and her stomach feel weird. She really wants to kiss Katya until she isn’t able to stop smiling anymore.   
Trixie wishes, from the very bottom of her heart, she could light up the same way, but at this point, she has been running on automatic. “Two more steps to the right Laila”, “go higher on that note Ryan” or “please Seth, do not set anything on fire - in fact Jessica take away anything flammable from around him, would you?”

Last night was no help - first she listened to an entire lecture about how she is probably just confused because of her troubled relationship with Ian and how she doesn’t have to feel like she needs to date people right now, but then she told them about dating girls in college too and then listened to another lecture about not feeling like she could trust her parents when obviously she could.

“It wasn’t obvious to me,” she said. “You are very religious and I was scared I’d hurt your feelings.”

“I’d be lying if I said I’m not shocked, or that I ever expected it, but nothing you could do would ever hurt us, honey,” Judy said. “Well, we do need to settle into this idea but we love you anyway.”

“Dear, God made you the way you are for a reason. Maybe this reason is that we need to become more accepting as people and as parents,” Arthur completed. “We love you and we respect your decisions and your lifestyle, even if we don’t necessarily agree or like them.”

“So you’re not fine with this?” Trixie asked, heart pounding so hard she felt like it was still trying to escape her chest. 

“We are, we really are, but this is big news, Beatrix. We need to learn how to deal just like you had to when you started figuring this out,” her mother explained. “What your father means is that this isn’t necessarily how we pictured this or what we would have chosen for you, but this is your life and you can do whatever you please. We will always love you and support you no matter what, because you are our child. We love you no matter what.”

“I love you guys too,” Trixie said, smiling and relieved. “Thanks for being so supportive of me, about everything.”

“We’re your parents, honey,” her father said, “it’s the least we could do. Now, will you pass me the salad?”

“What about this Katya girl, honey, what is she like?” her mother asked. Trixie blushed, but then she told them everything she could about Katya. From her beautiful red lipstick that she wears everyday to her awful jokes and how much she laughs when she’s around her. She told them about her fancy Russian degree and how much of an amazingly talented artist she is and the watercolor techniques that she uses on her paintings. She told them about how intense she is, how she’s always over the top and ready to go, how they know each other in a way that is almost instinctive and how many times she tried something with her and she told her it was not the time yet and that she respected Trixie’s time and didn’t mind waiting until she was ready to start dating again. Her father, who listened to everything in silence, told her after dinner that he was glad Trixie found such a nice lady for herself, and that maybe she should follow her instinct and do what feels right, forget about everything else.

“Your gut, kid,” he said as he walked her to her car, “is the one thing you can trust when you don’t know what your head is telling you any more. Give it a chance with this girl, yeah? I love you, and I want you to be happy. Let yourself be, alright? Drive safe, honey.”

She cried in relief when she got home, and she barely got any sleep thinking about how grateful she is that her parents were so quick to make sure she felt safe and like she felt she could trust them. She thought of Katya and the hundred walls of lawyers and bosses and musicals between them, but at the same time, she remembered what her father told her and she thought of the many ways she would, right now, let her know she wants this and that she doesn’t want to wait anymore. 

She listens to her gut and her gut is telling her to quit trying to force things and let them happen how God wants them to, how they’re supposed to. Her gut is telling her to let Katya in and she somehow feels like there’s no need to try, like it’s something, she’s just gotta do. She remembered what Mrs. Davis said about coming out and smiles. When the time comes, it comes. 

When it hits six o’clock, the kids all leave the auditorium like a pack of zombies, looking like they might fall down and die at any second and not even minding the fact it’s the last rehearsal before the break. Trixie doesn’t care, she isn’t doing any better. She just wants this day to be over. This year to be over. 

She sits on the stage with a notebook in her hand, checking if they had followed her plans and reviewing her notes, making sure to write down everything she needs to remember for the next term. Katya is checking the stage, as usual, to see if everything is still in place, which she usually does whistling carelessly but today she’s just quiet. Trixie wishes she’d whistle.

“Everything okay over there?” She asks, turning around.

“Yeah, everything's fine. It looks a little empty without the brushes and the fabric laying around, though,” Katya answers, walking towards her.

“Did the kids take their stuff with them?” Katya nods.

“We’re just gonna have to email them so they remember to bring it back in January, and the stuff we all bought together will stay in the art room, I’ve already taken it there” she comments and sits down next to her. “What are you writing?”

“Just some notes. We do have to plan the rehearsal schedule for the next half of act two soon, now that you mentioned,” Trixie finishes a note and then turns to Katya, leaving her pink notebook and pencil set by her side. 

“You seem tired,” Katya frowns.

“Tired is putting it kindly,” they laugh, “I feel like I’m either going to pass out or explode. Definitely need this time off.”

They are very close to each other, so close that their legs touch and they can feel each other’s breath. At this point, this is merciless teasing. 

“Always here if you need a tension reliever,” Katya says and Trixie raises her eyebrows with a smile. Katya blushes, but only slightly. “I meant the massage, you know. Shoulder massage.”

Trixie laughs and places her hand on top of Katya’s. “You don’t look a lot better than I do, sorry to disappoint. Maybe I can return the favor?”

Katya smiles. “I would sure love that, doll,” she says and then jumps off the stage, walking up to Trixie so that now she is right in front of her. “What do you say we clean the rest of this mess up and then you do that for me?”

“Sounds pretty good to me,” Trixie agrees. Katya is between her legs, with one hand on each side of her, both placed firmly on the stage. She’s just waiting for her waist to be grabbed, she’s aching for it. They’re quiet, looking at each other like they’re waiting for a sign. Before it comes, though, Trixie sighs. “I, uh, sorry about how I reacted to… you know. You. Like, you asking me out.”

“Oh, yeah, that,” Katya responds. “Don’t worry about it. I have awful timing, I shouldn’t have said anything - you don’t have to apologize.”

“I do, I feel like I embarrassed you.”

“I mean, a little, but it’s really not your fault, don’t worry about it.” 

Trixie bites her lip. “Last night, when you texted me, I was having dinner with my parents and I kind of came out to them.”

It comes all at once. Trixie closes her eyes, shuts them to put it better, expecting some kind of explosion of something she doesn’t know what will be. It’s easy to talk to Katya, but sometimes she doesn’t know how she’ll react to her own words.

“You did? And what did they say?” Katya asks, placing her hands on Trixie’s thighs. Trixie feels them sweaty and even trembling a little bit.

“Basically that they’re fine with it,” Trixie opens her eyes and stares back at Katya, who looks like she’s just run a marathon. There’s actual sweat on her forehead and she seems to have some difficulty breathing. “You don’t look fine, though, did I say anything?”

“No, don’t worry this is a great moment for you I,” Katya clears her throat, “I don’t have a lot of good memories with family dinners and coming outs, but this is your moment and we should celebrate that.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that would trigger you. I probably shouldn’t say anything else.”

“No, please, I’ll be fine. Just… how did it feel?”

“Scary,” Trixie answers. “But then really relieving, literally like being on a rollercoaster. First they didn’t really understand and we had a bit of an argument but in the end… I don’t know, it felt good to be honest with them and they seemed so proud to have kind of gotten my trust back.”

“That’s really nice,” Katya smiles fondly, squeezing Trixie’s thigh. “I’m so happy and so proud of you for taking this step.”

“Thanks. So am I.” They both smile at each other because this is honestly all they seem to manage around each other. “I… Remember what I said?”

“About loving Jesus but worshipping Dolly Parton?” Katya completes before Trixie is able to finish, which makes her laugh and roll her eyes.

“That too I guess, but I mean when you asked me out. I said we should wait until after the musical, right?”

“You did,” Katya squeezes Trixie’s thigh again. “And that’s alright with me, take your time doll.”

“Is it really alright?” Trixie asks. Katya cocks her head to the side and takes her hand. Their hands intertwined together feel almost like two puzzle pieces coming together.

“Of course it is,” Katya reassures. “I mean, sure I’d love to kiss the living hell out of you at this very moment, and I’d do it with my most honorable intentions, even though it’s kinda hard to look at you and not think about some nasty stuff but…” She shrugs. “I guess waiting makes me want it more.”

“Well, want more of what?” Trixie smiles, letting her hair fall on her face a little and then trying to tuck it behind her ear. “The honorable intentions or the nasty stuff?”

She uses her arms for support and leans front, getting closer to Katya than she was before, being able to feel the other woman’s breathing that has suddenly become heavier just like her own. 

“Both,” Katya is looking right inside her eyes. “I really want both.” She stretches a little bit so her and Trixie’s foreheads almost touch. “First I wanna take you to dinner and then I wanna show you that I’m a messy eater.”

Trixie blushes and bites her lip in a smile, but Katya looks dead serious. “I can’t fucking wait,” she says. “And I can tell that you can’t either.”

“I can, you’re worth waiting for,” Katya moves her hand up to Trixie’s face and she leans into it.

“Maybe… we don’t have to. Maybe there’s no perfect time, there’s just right now and us making the best of it.” Trixie blinks very slowly. 

“You have to be sure, Barbie doll,” Katya caresses her, quite like a kitten. “Don’t say that just because of me.”

“I am sure. I want this, and I know I’m still not I'm the best place, but,” Trixie sighs. “We can get ourselves to a better place together.”

Katya smiles as she moves her hands back down to her waist. “I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else,” she says, right there between her thighs. “As long as I’m with you.” 

Trixie takes the support from Katya’s strong hands on her waist to prop herself down to the floor, where she immediately leans against the stage. The hands nearly fly back up to her cheeks, and Katya leans herself against Trixie.

“I want this,” Trixie says. Katya smiles up to her. “I want it bad and I want it now.”

Katya kisses her cheek, and then the corner of her mouth. She looks up at Trixie and Trixie looks back down at her. She leans in and pauses for a very brief second, letting their breaths mix together and their eyes close gently, eyelashes fluttering so very slightly. Trixie smiles as she reaches for Katya’s lips…

“Sorry to interrupt y’alls moment over there,” Alyssa Edwards, cheerleading coach, says with her exaggerated Texan accent, as she barges into the auditorium, “but I thought we ladies ought to have a nice lil’ chat ‘bout somethin’.”

“What the fuck,” Katya says, as she turns around to face Ms. Edwards. 

“Alyssa!” Trixie exclaims, loudly. “What…” she sighs. “Now?”

“I did say sorry ladies, I know y’all are couple of the year or somethin’ like that but y’all do have some spare time for me, right?” Alyssa walks towards them and sits down on a front row seat.

“Couple of the year? We are not…” Trixie starts, Ms. Edwards raises her eyebrows and Katya clears her throat.

“Long, long story, I  _ will _ tell you later,” she whispers. Trixie gives her a mean side eye look, to which she blushes. “Anyway, Alyssa, what was that about?”

Trixie holds back a laugh. She does make Katya nervous, Kim was right. One crossed look from her is enough to make her all embarrassed and blush like a pepper. It’s nice to know that she may be all soft and sweet but even the slightest bit of her bitter side has a huge effect on her. In fact, if she looks at it closely, it seems like everything she does has some sort of pretty visible effect on Katya.

She likes that. She likes it a little too much. 

“I have some news about old man RuPaul that I think y’all are gon’ like to hear,” Alyssa crosses her arms and legs. “Thought you ladies would wanna hear about it.”

“What do you mean?” Trixie asks. “What are you talking about?”

“What kind of news are these?” Katya asks too.

“The kind of news he wouldn’t want y’all to know, or anyone else as a matter of fact. Maybe even the kind that can get y’alls something in return.”

Trixie looks at Katya, who’s already looking at her. There’s a certain kind of fire starting to grow in her chest, the kind of thing she knows would make Katya blush if she said it out loud for it would show exactly what kind of bitterness lives inside of her along the sweetness she usually displays.

“So, y’all wanna hear about it?” Alyssa asks. One of Trixie’s eyebrows shoots up as she starts walking. Katya watches her from the stage, she knows the Russian can already see the word  _ revenge _ being spelt in a pretty cursive font inside her head.

“You bet,” Trixie pulls the chair from the desk near the stage and sits in front of Alyssa, who looks ready to spill scorching hot tea all over that floor. Katya stands behind her and puts her hands on her shoulders. Instinctively, she places her hand on top of Katya’s and smiles a little. Seems like everything is finally settling into place.

 


	12. Part 4 - i'll wear my third degrees and my heart upon my sleeve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i heard y'all wanted some smut
> 
> EDIT: the last chapter is going to take a while guys because i’m in the middle of a super fun depression breakdown, yay. Sorry bout it and hope you understand <3

Katya has a ritual for every time she goes to somebody’s house for the first time, and I know it sounds weird right now, but it was mostly a grounding technique for when she was high out of her mind and had to find her way back to Earth before sucking a dick. She’s done it so much that by now it’s just a habit, an involuntary exercise that her mind does to try and better understand her surroundings.

One: she tries to smell the place. A house’s smell tells you a lot more about the people who live there than any decoration piece ever will. Cigarettes is a classic, just like weed. Her own house smells like those two things. Glade spray scents were a common find, but certainly a weird one, it meant whoever lived there had something to hide. The ones she hated the most were the ones that smelled like bacon grease. That, unfortunately, was a common find. It meant the people who lived there had already stopped caring a long time ago. 

Two: she looks for faces. Portraits, posters, paintings, anything with a human face on it. Is it a graduation picture? A family Christmas card in the fridge? A Justin Bieber poster hanging from the ceiling? She’s met all of those and Justin is a lot scarier when he watches you fuck a 50-year-old dude from above the bed. There’s no mercy in those eyes.

Three: she feels the floor. Is it hard? Noisy? Is there a soft rug? If the jumps, will it hurt her feet? Usually, the places she went back in her days as a sex worker had dirty, creaky floors and her cheap heels sounded like they’d punch a hole in them at any second, so she always minded herself and tried her best to tiptoe around to avoid any major damage. Other times she just stomped and prayed to God or whatever for the floor below her to open and swallow her whole, which, unfortunately, never happened.

Trixie’s house is absolutely the most comfortable, safe and homey house she’s ever been in. It’s not exactly what Katya would have expected from a twenty-seven-year-old single teacher who lives on her own, but it’s so pretty and so cozy she’s willing to overlook the fact that anyone else would have mistaken that for a divorced mom’s new home. It doesn’t smell like anything specific, but Katya recognizes a hint of her perfume and some sort of sweetness in the air like something’s about to come out of the oven ready to be devoured. 

“Have you been baking?” She asks, taking off her scarf and leaving it on the coat hanger by the door, along with her boots. She’s wearing Christmas themed socks.

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep last night, thinking about, you know, the thing Alyssa told us.” Trixie takes Katya’s coat. “Please, come in. Don’t mind the mess.” She frowns and Katya looks over to a perfectly neat living room. What a nutcase. The couch is white, covered in pink and beige cloth, just like the armchair in the corner. There are a huge TV and a white coffee table, which has a vase of lilies on top of it. This could be on Discovery Home and Health. She takes a quick glance at the wall and spots a few family photos on the wall, along with her own graduation picture from college. Katya would be lying if she said she didn’t miss blonde Trixie a little. She also notices an empty spot, probably had a picture of her and Ian. More importantly, though, there’s a fireplace. And it’s  _ huge _ .

“Do you wanna come into the kitchen?” Trixie asks and Katya nods. She steps slowly and carefully, hoping she won’t slip on the polished wooden floor, but she doesn’t - well, she does only enough so that it’s fun and she’s sure she won’t fall down and hit her head. Trixie is wearing furry Puma sliders, while Katya has only her dumb socks on, and the floor doesn’t creak at all, the only sound is their muffled steps from the rug they step on when on route to the kitchen. She feels safe, she feels warm and she’s sure that if this were an open house, she’d buy it the second she walked inside. 

The kitchen is also Discovery H&H worthy. Big, spacious and expensive-looking. “Wow,” Katya says when she walks in, trying to count how many cabinets there are. Like, seriously, how many dishes does a person need? Jesus Christ. 

“Thanks,” Trixie smiles. Then she shrugs. “I’m not big on cooking, even though I love baking, so there’s really not much use for all of this.” Her statement is confirmed by the fifteen dessert cookbooks on the counter. 

“That’s a shame,” Katya says. “I have had wet dreams about kitchens like this one.”

“I’m very done with takeout so you are very welcome to come make me dinner whenever you want. Don’t even knock,” Trixie laughs. 

“Only if it’s a date,” Katya says while inspecting her oven, which is on with what looks like a lovely lasagna. She doesn’t see the brunette blushing, but she guesses that she did.

“I’ll consider it. Anyway, I made us some spinach lasagna and I hope you won’t hate me for shoving vegetables in, well, lasagna.” 

“It’s fine, I don’t mind spinach, I’m worried about you cooking in general,” Katya replies, laughing. Trixie punches her in the shoulder as she laughs along, and suddenly they’re very quiet. Katya walks in Trixie’s direction until she has her back against the counter. She puts her hand on the girl’s chin and pulls her closer, but as she’s about to close her eyes, she peeks just out the window and smiles. 

“It’s snowing,” she says. 

 

…

 

“First snow of the year came in mid-December, then?” Katya says, sipping on a cup of tea. Trixie lent her some slippers to come outside, and guess what, they’re also pink and fluffy! They’re standing side by side, shoulders touching, leaning against the porch fence with a cup of tea each. They ate their dinner and drank their water while talking about the thing Katya was actually there to talk about (which is the matter that Alyssa brought to their attention), and decided to go outside to drink something warm and watch the snow for a while before dessert.

“Finally. I love watching the snow, it’s so quiet and peaceful.” Trixie’s fair skin and chubby cheeks look gorgeous in the moonlight. The stars shine brightly in silver, transmitting a peaceful, yet nearly electric energy down to the two women who stand still, looking up at them. 

“It reminds me of Russia. But the snow there is always awful, you’d hate it,” she shakes her head. “I wish you could see Moscow in the summer, it looks so beautiful I can barely believe it’s real.”

“Do you ever think about going back?” Trixie asks, looking straight at her. 

“Never. There’s nothing for me there anymore.” 

“I’m sure you’d love to see Moscow again,” Trixie suggests, nudging at Katya, who smiles. 

“Maybe one day, but right now this is pretty enough for me,” she looks at the girl, who’s smiling at her. She rests her mug on the fence and takes Trixie’s from her hands. “There is, though, one thing that would make it more than enough.”

As she pulls her closer, Trixie raises her eyebrows. “Oh, really? And what would that be?”

Katya smiles back at her, trying to tuck her hair behind her ear and failing because she always forgets how short it is now. “You. Nothing else but you” 

The kiss comes slowly, but surely. It warms Katya’s body completely, they wrap their arms so tightly around each other and suddenly the rest of the world is gone. Looking at Trixie has always been holy for her, but this feels holistic - meant to be, here and now, like the universe had it planned all along. Feeling Trixie’s soft lips against hers, a perfect fit, she can’t think about anything else, every single cell in her body, and her soul if that’s a thing, are caught up in this moment, not thinking about anything else, not being able to. 

Katya has had a lot of first kisses. She’s kissed boys, girls, genderless people and even Adore when they got a bit drunk that one time and all of them felt the same, no matter how different they were. Alexandra was a pecker. Sharon was a lip biter. Kissing her Russian ex-girlfriend for the first time felt like her very first kiss all over again, she was nervous and sweaty and she hoped she wasn’t fucking it up by making the first move. Kissing Sharon for the first time, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as innocent as that. It was a horny, drunk mess that started out as a one night stand and ended up with her leaving a toothbrush in Katya’s apartment. 

She’s fantasized about kissing Trixie (among other stuff, of course) ever since the day they spent a few hours at her apartment talking about the musical and then about themselves. That was the day she realized maybe all of the tension between them had been something else all along. Usually, that happened in another kind of scenario, with a lot less clothes involved, but as time went by, she started appreciating the idea of kissing Trixie just because, which made her start wondering what would that feel like. Would it be soft and gentle? Would it be passionate? Would it be in the heat of the moment, quick and then hot? Would it be awkward? Too many questions. Too many scenarios and she can’t think of one that is better than the one they’re in right now. Soft and patient, yes, but at the same time so intense it makes 30 degrees feel warm in the middle of December. She wants to be here forever, even if that means standing on her toes and running out of breath. Katya can taste the moon and the stars in her mouth.

Being able to feel Trixie up close like this, close enough to smell her clothes and feel her heartbeat against her chest, fuck, nothing, nothing that Katya has ever done felt this good, this perfect before. After all of the time that they took until this happened, Katya swears to God, if she weren’t able to give this girl the kiss she deserved she’d have a fit. She wraps her arms around Trixie’s neck and the girl does the same to her waist. They deepen the kiss for a second and Katya’s hand travels to cup her face.

They pull away and breathe out for a second, wearing silly smiles as their foreheads touch. “You are so cheesy,” Trixie smiles before leaning in for another quick kiss. Katya traces her cheeks and her lips with her index.

“I don’t think I ever want to stop kissing you. Fuck, that was so worth the wait, the stress” she plants a peck on the girl’s lips. “You are worth everything.”

“Cheesy,” she replies, pulling herself closer to Katya. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Oh,  _ I’m  _ lucky I’m cute? That’s big of you, Ms. Drunk Dial,” Katya laughs. Trixie throws her head back in laughter, then kisses Katya one more time. 

“I’m kidding. I think it was worth the wait too and I’m very glad it happened now.” She looks at Katya. “It felt perfect.” She pecks Katya again. “And I don’t ever wanna stop kissing you either. But can we do that inside? I’m starting to get cold.”

“Alright with me,” Katya lets go of her. She regrets it immediately.

“Do you wanna eat some dessert?” Trixie asks, opening the door. Katya laughs.

“You bet I do.”

 

…

 

Things, let’s say, have escalated rather quickly. It all started with some making out on the couch, and suddenly, boom, there was neck kissing and tit touching and all of that. Katya is about to either burst into flames or grab Trixie’s ass so hard she’ll end up hurting her. Right now, the brunette is on top of her, kissing her neck and even venturing down her collarbones. 

Katya gets into a somehow uncomfortable position and tells Trixie to hold on while she gets herself together, but then accidentally she raises her knee and thigh brush against Trixie’s inner thigh and she looks at Katya in a way she’s never done before and that’s when she realizes that she has made the terrible mistake of thinking Trixie was plain vanilla.

See, Katya’s good in bed. She knows it, everybody knows it, it’s a fact, we just face it. There is a little something to it, though, and it is that Katya has a few bad habits. By that I mean that she is one kinky bitch who will do anything to get her woman off, but at the same time, she wants to get done too. She loved Alexandra, and their sex was always very passionate, but Katya was young and she didn’t have much experience and that kept her from seeing how much of a bore that girl actually was. Meanwhile, Sharon was a wild ride. Sometimes literally. She was into spanking, choking, dirty talking and face slapping, nothing that Katya wouldn’t do for her, and the bonus to that is that she was one hundred percent submissive between four walls.

All the attitude? Dropped. She was almost a pet (there was a time she asked Katya to be fucked in a collar and boy was that fun), liked being punished and liked making her mommy happy. Oh yeah, she also called her mommy, which Katya thought was creepy and weird at first but when you’re going down on a girl while there’s a vibrator up her ass and she’s shouting the most insane kind of profanity at you, dear Lord, she could say anything and Katya wouldn’t care, she’d just slide another finger in and maybe give her a nibble. 

She didn’t get the kinky vibe from Trixie. Of course that after the drunk call, she kind of got that she was a completely different person when she was horny, but no specifics. Maybe she’s into some light spanking? Katya could work with that, and not being into it would be a waste of a great ass. She might be into some dirty talking, which totally does it for Katya as well. Oh, what if she’s one of those freaks who likes public teasing? Shit, that’d be genius.

“Stay there,” Trixie says, holding Katya’s thigh in place and then slowly letting it go. She straightens her back, sitting up so now she’s facing the girl whose legs are to the sides of her own. Then Trixie humps it.

“Fuck.”

Trixie raises her eyebrows and does it again, looking Katya in the eye. She’s so wet, Katya bets there’s a huge spot on her panties now - she feels it on her thigh. She puts her hands firmly on Trixie’s hips and guides them to grind one more time. The brunette bites her lip and lets out a moan.

“Shirt off. Skirt off.” Katya starts lifting the girl’s shirt but Trixie slaps her hands away. 

“Not so fast. You made me wait for it, now it’s your turn to wait,” she says. “But since I’m such a good girl, you can have a little peek.” She slowly lifts her skirt up to her waist, revealing garters and lacy underwear. If Katya weren’t already wet from watching Trixie, she’d get wet now from seeing her like this. The bitch knows exactly what she’s doing. 

Katya got herself a fucking teaser.

She runs her hands lightly over Trixie’s thighs and ass, making sure to grab it hard, hard enough to make her moan a little, as soon as she starts rubbing herself against her leg again.

“Do you like this, baby? Are you eager enough to make yourself come just like that?” Katya asks, digging her short nails into her cheeks. Trixie smiles, smug, sexy.

“Fuck, I could, but I want you to make me come,” she answers, grinding harder. Katya guides her hips up and down. “I think I deserve it.”

“You bet you do, princess.”

“What did you call me?”

“Princess,” Katya repeats, slapping her butt lightly. Trixie lets out a loud moan. She likes it loud, apparently. Katya likes it that she likes it loud.

“Keep calling me that and I’ll think about being nicer to you,” she says between breaths. She’s biting hard on her lip and grinding like there’s no tomorrow. 

“Oh, will you?” Katya says, slipping a hand in between Trixie’s thighs, feeling her through her underwear. “I think you’re being a bit of a brat now. I would like it if you were nicer, princess.”  

Trixie nods, biting her lip, enjoying Katya’s index running her all the way. “Yeah, but you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

Oh, nice. Not only has Katya gotten herself a teaser, this nutcase also likes being teased. She’s fucked, and she doesn’t know whether it’s in a good or a bad way.

“Aw, baby,” Katya says, tugging at Trixie’s panties, pulling them down. “These are getting all wet and sticky…” she tugs once more. “Should I take ‘em off?” She lets go and they slap against the girl’s skin. She exhales.

“Maybe you should take my shirt off first,” Trixie responds. “I get wetter everytime you touch me and I wanna be a good girl and get very very wet for you.”

Good. Definitely a good way.

Katya rushes to the first button, only to have her hand slapped away. “Not so fast,” Trixie says. “Breathe, take it slow… and kiss me every time you undo a button.”

“You’re such a tease,” Katya responds, shifting positions so that now she’s on top.

“Yeah, and don’t you love getting to take all of me so slowly that you get to enjoy yourself more?” She smiles as Katya opens the first button and kisses her neck. “After all, I’m just your good girl and you’re lucky I let you touch me like this.”

Katya is on the fourth button now, and she stops to push the blouse down Trixie’s shoulders, having more access to her breasts. She’s wearing the thinnest lacy bra known to humanity and her nipples are very visible. Katya licks one over the fabric then pulls it aside, sucking hard on it. Trixie gasps and moans. Katya leaves a sweet trail of kisses on her chest, as she keeps undoing the buttons slowly. 

“You treat me so well,” Trixie pants, right as Katya is ripping her top off and trying to open her bra. “But you’re way too covered for my taste.”

“I’m gonna take this dress off in a second, princess, but right now it’s all about you.” Katya throws her bra to the side and doesn’t even see that it landed on the TV because she’s too busy pulling the girl’s skirt down her legs. She stops to look at Trixie for a second, lying in all of her glory, tits out, garters, stockings, lacy underwear and the face of a woman who wants to get treated like a princess and fucked like a whore.  “You’re beautiful,” Katya says, as she kisses Trixie hard, cupping her breasts. “You’re gorgeous, you’re perfect.”

“Bed?” Trixie asks. 

“Bed,” she agrees, already standing up, and takes her dress off on the way, just before pinning Trixie against a wall and kissing her while teasing her clit over her undies. Trixie has her palms against the wall, breathing heavily, looking Katya in the eye. She smiles and mouths “bed” before being kissed roughly by her.

Trixie’s bed is big and soft and definitely better than any bed Katya has ever slept (or fucked) in, and she throws the brunette underneath her before ripping away her panties and getting ready to eat her out like Ian is watching.

“Oh my honey, you’re an eager one aren’t you?” Trixie asks as she pulls Katya up gently by her hair. The blonde is breathing down heavily on her pussy right now, and she doesn’t look happy when Trixie moves her away from it. “I can’t just let you have that, can I? I’ve been a good girl, I think I deserve more…” she pouts. Katya is now above her, kissing her chest softly, making her gasp. Anything with this girl has to be very dramatic, she notices. To hell with it, then. 

“Anything for you, princess, anything to make you come,” Katya replies. This is not herself right now. Usually, she’s all about choking her dirty whore, spanking her ass and her tits because she’s been a bad girl or not letting her come until she fucking says so since she’s such a filthy slut. Really, that would get her off in a minute any day. But then she looks at Trixie and she can’t just do that. Trixie’s a really good girl for her and she has no idea where this is all coming from. She, who has always been a dominant top now feeling privileged because she is allowed to see the bare minimum of Trixie being naughty. To be fair, though, it is a big privilege. Trixie Mattel is a kinky power bottom who likes being worshipped and no one could do that better than Katya.

“First I want you to kiss me all over, I want you to bite me and I want you to leave marks” she says while Katya nibbles her nipple, feeling almost like she’s high on something because this body is magnetic to her, she can’t keep herself away, she needs to touch, bite and lick every corner of it. “If you want me to be yours, then make me.” That alone could have made Katya come. “Hm, I love it when you tease me, it keeps me wet longer, so wet for you.”

This girl is the devil, Katya thinks as she sinks her teeth right into her left breast. Trixie moans loud, she’s such a loud girl, and Katya’s only getting started. She tries to reply but she can’t, Trixie’s tits are huge and she wants them all purple from her teeth, and God this girl moans and whines in such a way that would drive anyone insane, Katya has already soaked through her own underwear just listening to her. 

Katya flips her over and starts biting down and squeezing her ass tightly, and Trixie likes it - she can tell by the way she breathes out her name, followed by some long, long vowels and curse words. “Baby you’re so good to me, make me feel so special,” Trixie says. Her ass is all wet from Katya’s spit and she would be really happy if she’d mark her so well she won’t be able to sit tomorrow. 

“Fuck, I love seeing you like this, on your hands and knees just for me, princess,” Katya says as she moves down to bite and lick her thighs. “Tell me what you want me to do to you, baby girl, say it loud,” she demands and Trixie sticks her ass up. The garter stretches along and it’s official: Katya will lose her fucking mind.

“I need you to finger me really slowly, yeah? I need you to rub my clit and tell me how good I’ve been, tell me I’m a good girl,” she moans. 

“Oh baby, you are my pretty little girl, you’re my princess” Katya responds as she traces her butthole with her index, which makes Trixie whimper. “I love it when you spread yourself for me so I get to see all of you,” she continues as she helps the girl spread her legs wider and then plants a quick peck on her pretty cunt. “You’re so beautiful, you could be so good to me… You could sit on my face, you could let me do all the work, you deserve it.” Katya gives a quick lick to Trixie’s cunt. “I love your smell, I love your taste. I’d love it if you let me lick you clean after you come”, she says. She keeps playing with Trixie’s folds and breathing down on her hole. She kisses Trixie’s pussy again, taking time to nibble her clit and suck on it real good. 

She’s so wet that when Katya flips her over again and licks her from top to bottom she gets her nose wet as well. She rubs her clit and kisses her tits again, reaching closer to her ear. “Now tell me, princess,” Katya whispers and kisses her neck. “Will you moan pretty for me while I fuck you?”

Before Trixie gets to answer, Katya slides two fingers inside of her without warning, but the blonde’s moans and screams are good enough to let her know how much she liked it. She pumps them in and out agonizingly slowly, feeling Trixie squirm underneath her, and then she starts curling them and the girl screams so loud she might have woken up the entire neighborhood. She keeps doing that, enjoying the sounds Trixie is making, learning all of them. She might say she doesn’t swear, but that’s a lie - this girl has the dirtiest mouth in Massachusetts.

“Fuck, Katya, fuck me harder,” she yells and moans.

“No, I don’t think so,” Katya says, panting. She slows down. “You asked for this, didn’t you? I give you anything you ask me for princess…”

“Ugh, I hate you,” Katya pushes her fingers in, deep and hard. “Fuck,” Trixie yells. 

“Oh, no baby, don’t lie,” she kisses the brunette, then trails the kisses, all wet and sloppy, down her neck and chest. “You sound like someone who’s being fucked real good. Are you?”

Trixie moans and bites her lips. Katya feels a shift in the air and she realizes, then and there, Trixie squirming and gasping underneath her, she’s got this girl tied around her fingers. 

“Answer me, princess, are you being fucked good?” Katya’s thumb meets her clit, pressing down on it then rubbing firmly. Trixie opens her eyes and stares at Katya’s face with that same old smile.

“I want you to eat me out until I forget how to use words,” she answers. “Maybe then, you won’t need to ask.”

Nope, she was wrong. Katya’s the one who’s tied around Trixie’s pretty little fingers. She shakes her head and lowers down to stare at the pink wet mess she made, kisses it softly and then jams her tongue into Trixie’s hole, yet keeps looking her in the eye. She wants to see the exact moment when Trixie’s high starts coming. 

“Katya, I’m gonna come,” she moans out, and there are the vowels again. “Fuck, Katya, keep… Keep going, you’re doing me so well baby.”

Katya grabs Trixie’s hips so hard she’s sure it’ll leave a mark, the girl throws her head back and moans loudly, hips bucking up and down against Katya’s mouth, and when she comes she makes sure to let all of the neighbors know about it.

Trixie breathes out loudly. “Okay, your turn honey.” She sits up and guides Katya up as well, only to push her back down, this time with the stomach up. “Spread them,” she requests, kneeling over one of her thighs. “You make me feel so good, I wanna make you feel good too, baby,” she says. 

Katya feels Trixie’s full lips grind against hers as she rubs it up and down. She wants to throw her head back and scream out in pleasure, but all she does is moan and bite her lower lip while watching their pussies stroke in rhythm, she’s hypnotized. “Grind, princess,” she says between pants, “I love watching you work your hips.” They are both so wet, their cunts slide so easily and so eagerly against each other, it’s driving Katya so crazy she couldn’t stop even if she wanted to. 

“Am I doing a good job?” Trixie asks, tits bouncing. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Fuck, princess, don’t stop. You look so pretty when you’re on top of me,” Katya moans. Her clit is throbbing, but Trixie is going so slow… “Princess, I want more, please go harder.”

Trixie smile as Katya lifts her leg up and she holds it up against her chest. She starts jerking her hips faster and harder against Katya, who curses and screams it out. Katya is a clit girl, what to do about that…

“Fuck, Trixie, I’m coming,” she yells. Trixie’s hips grind smoothly against her, intensely but less fast, hand gripping her waist tightly, nails sinking into her fair skin. Katya’s toes curl and her legs stagger as she moans one last time and then the two women fall, side by side, onto the bed, both panting and smiling.

“Holy shit,” says Trixie.

“Holy fucking shit,” agrees Katya. They look at each other and laugh. She rolls on top of Trixie and kisses her. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.”

“I can’t breathe very well right now, but I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my whole life before. You’re so good, honey, you fuck me so well,” Trixie kisses her. They stop and breathe for a moment. “Round two?”

“Hell yeah.”

 

…

 

Michelle Visage’s house is not as big as they pictured it might be. They had imagined a luxurious swimming pool, huge windows up and down the walls and palm trees around the driveway, but in reality it was a white picket fence with a cozy-looking front porch kind of place. Total shocker, I know. 

“I can’t feel my butt,” whispers Trixie as they approach the house slowly, still trying to take in the fact that she was more like a soccer mom than a trophy wife. “I mean, I can, and it hurts. Did I really ask for this? Why would I do that? Don’t let me do it again.”

Katya laughs, heart skipping a bit at  _ again _ . She’s about to answer very charmingly, of course, when they are welcomed by a door opening as soon as they reach the first step to the porch and a tiny bubble of fury who barks really loud flies right at them with rage burning in its eyes. Katya tries not to bark back. 

“Well, that’s an interesting visit. I was about to take Troy for a walk,” Visage says, holding a blue leash to her hands, which even has tiny bones to it. It’d be cute if it weren’t for the little monster biting at their toes. Michelle is wearing trackers, but then again, isn’t she always? This one only looks different because it seems to match Troy’s collar and leash. Not a soccer mom, then. A dog mom. The surprises pop by the minute around here. “What would bring you two around here?”

“Hi, Michelle, we actually need to talk to you about something,” says Trixie, smiling nervously. She looks down at her sand-colored Jeffrey Campbell boots and clicks her heels three times to shake the leftover snow off them.

“It’s about Ru,” completes Katya, looking Visage straight in the eye. “And it’s quite serious,” she adds

Raises her eyebrows. “I assume it’s about the musical then, which we definitely do not need t be talking about during recess, but I’m a nice person and I’m willing to listen. Come in, quick, before I change my mind” she opens the door wider and Trixie steps over Troy. Katya makes an ugly face at him and he barks back at her. Amazing how even Michelle’s dog is intimidating, even if he’s the size of an ant.

Her house is comfortable, yet tacky - the first thought to run through Katya’s head is how Trixie could totally transform it and make it look straight out of an IKEA showroom, but smelling like lavender candles. She also makes a mental note to buy Trixie scented candles one day since she saw none at her house and figures it would add something special to it. Michelle’s house has absolutely nothing to do with her as a person on the outside already, but the inside is twice, if not three times, as bad. Antique wooden furniture, beige walls and different shades of green on the decoration, as depressing as it sounds. Katya’s heart sheds a tear for her because she finally understands why Michelle’s such a bitch: it’s the fucking green living set. Along with the Troy cushions. Literal cushions shaped like her dog. Hell to the no.  

“Please, sit down. Can I get you anything? Water, coffee? Tea?” Michelle offers, but they both refuse it. Katya sits down on the couch but Trixie stands, blushing slightly. “It’s alright, Beatrix, sit down,” she insists.

“I can’t,” says Trixie, then purses her lips. Katya blushes a little too hard and even coughs from her answer. Visage shakes her head. It’s a sitcom in an ugly living room. 

“You two are gross. Forget the tea, I’m getting wine, just a sec,” she says and leaves to the kitchen. Troy sits at Katya’s feet and stares at her like he’s waiting for her to die so he can devour the remains. 

“I don’t like him,” she whispers at Trixie, who looks down at him. “In fact, he is making me dislike all dogs right now.”

Trixie laughs silently. “He might just hate the cigarette smell, you know. Troy’s been really nice to me,” she bends down, “haven’t you boy?” And then he proceeds to bark so violently at Trixie she loses balance and has to take a step back. “Nope, nevermind, forget that.”

“Sorry about Troy, he doesn’t like strangers,” excuses Michelle bringing a bottle and three glasses of wine into the living room. Day drinking at a coworker’s place on a Saturday morning? Sounds like a fucking plan if you ask me. She sits down and pours one for Trixie and one for Katya, who refuses it so she just shrugs and takes it herself. Now, Katya won’t say she saw the coach down an entire glass of wine at ten a.m. but that is exactly what she saw. She won’t say it though. She’ll just give Trixie a side-eye look and question if coming here was a good idea.

“Thanks for the wine, you really didn’t have to…” starts Trixie, obviously putting on the effort to be extra nice, but Michelle interrupts her.

“No, I did have to,” she says. “Anyway, I’m waiting. What is so important that you had to come disturb Troy’s walk time?”

They look at each other again. “Michelle, it’s about your husband,” says Katya, slowly. Visage sets her glass down and Katya sighs. Boy, oh boy. She sure hopes there won’t be any dogs thrown at her, which seems like a possible risk, but she continues anyway. This has to be done.

 

…

 

A lot, trust me, a lot of curse words were said in that living room, including some Katya didn’t even know and others she hadn’t heard in years and even gasped at. She and Trixie made their way back to the car in silence, only disrupted by Trixie’s “ouch,” as she sat down on the leather seat.

“So, that went well. I think.” Katya turns to her. Trixie nods.

“Totally. I’m going to pray a rosary when I get home because I’m almost sure I can go to hell just from hearing all that,” she says, starting the engine. “So, what’s next?”

“We wait for Michelle to call us back and then we blackmail RuPaul,” Katya answers, fixing the air conditioning and seat heater. She fucking loves the seat heater. 

“No, silly,” smiles Trixie, “I meant right now. What are your plans?”

“Oh, sure,” she laughs. “Not much. Pop by my house and let Adore know I am alive and well. Also tell her literally everything that happened last night.”

“Well, as long as you skip the details, I’m okay with that,” Trixie laughs. “I was wondering if you didn’t wanna go back to my place or at least any place where I don’t have to sit down and can have my butt up as long as I need.”

“I think Adore wouldn’t mind if I were dead anyway, so sure. Sounds good to me,” Katya agrees. “Would you mind if I used your shower, though? I completely passed out last night plus I feel a little gross after listening to that.”

“Sure, no problem. I kind of want us to talk things through and check where we are before, you know. Anything.” Trixie shrugs. “We didn’t really get a chance last night.”

“I’m just saying I’m gonna try really hard not to ruin the chance we get today,” Katya laughs, “but I think it’s good for us to talk. And hearing your voice is always something I’m here for, so don’t worry. Talk is good.”

Trixie smiles and turns on the radio. Katya knows she’s old school, but she didn’t know she had so many Dolly Parton CDs in her car. One of them plays on the radio, the others, as Katya observes, are in a cute Hello Kitty shaped CD case that was probably bought in 2009.

“Privyet. My name is Hello Katya and I’m from the magical land of Siberia,” says Katya, holding the CD case up to her face. She’s making sure to go an extra mile on her accent. “And everyone loves my bad breath.”

“Oh, my God,” laughs Trixie, looking at her and then quickly back at the road. 

“One extra special thing about me is that I’m the sweatiest woman in show business,” Katya continues, going harder on the accent because she enjoys the sound of Trixie’s laughter. “I feel my socialist side will balance out Hello Kitty’s decadent capitalism.”

“I said it once and I’m gonna say it again: you’re  _ so _ lucky you’re cute,” Trixie says. “If it were anyone else in this seat where you are right now, I’d pull over and let them out. Ouch,” she whispers. “Sorry, my butt still hurts.”

“I can give you a massage if you’d like. Get that blood flowing, you know,” Katya says as she places the CD case carefully back into the glove department. “After all it is my fault. I’m not gonna lie, I feel a little proud saying that, is that bad?”

Trixie smiles. “Absolutely not, it’s really fun to hear.” She chuckles. “God, I’m sorry to bring him up but my sex life with Ian was so fucking boring, I’ve been faking orgasms for the past four years. Or is it three? I can’t even tell anymore.”

“I mean, you did get it all out last night, so I kinda got that ‘this is my first time having decent sex in forever’ vibe from you.” Trixie blushes. “... Which is totally fine, seriously.”

“I know that in theory but it’s hard to acknowledge in practice…” Trixie sighs. “I feel like I’m failing at this.”

“If it makes you feel any better, last night was probably the best of all time and I didn’t even have a ranking until you happened,” says Katya. “I’m sure it’s a different kind of feeling for you because of the devil himself, but you’re really not alone in this. Or maybe you are and this is all inside your head,” Katya makes circular and mystic looking gestures with her hands. 

Trixie laughs and slaps her hand, then she holds it. “Thank you.” Katya kisses it. “I’m really happy to have you around.”

“I’m happy to be around,” Katya says, smiling. “Thanks for letting me in. And I could make a joke involving vaginas right now but I won’t because I’m trying to tell you how much I mean it.”

Trixie stops the car in front of her garage, turning the key and suddenly it’s all silent. “What are we?” Trixie asks. “I mean, I obviously don’t wanna pressure you but I wanna know where we stand. Is this casual or is it serious or…” She sighs. “What are we?”

Katya shrugs. “I’m trying not to rush things because I wanna follow your pace and make sure you’re comfortable every step of the way. I don’t know.” She turns to Trixie, still holding her hand and lets herself rest against the seat. She’s hoping to catch the back warmer even though Trixie turned the car off. 

“So there is a way? Like, we are headed somewhere?” 

“What about we head into your house and talk about this while we cuddle?” Katya suggests, wiggling her brows. Trixie smiles.

“You’re way clingier and more romantic than I expected, actually,” Trixie says. Katya opens her mouth to start defending herself and telling her there is no way in the world a sane person wouldn’t be clingy or romantic if they had Trixie by their side, but the girl doesn’t even let her start. “No, don’t worry. I like it.”

They get out of the car and make their way inside, where Trixie offers Katya pajamas that are three times bigger than her and she takes them anyway. “Can we make this a bra-free zone?” asks Katya, who now is just a blonde head popping out of a mountain of sweater fabric. 

“No bra means no lift,” says Trixie, pointing at her own breasts, “but you do you, Kat.” Katya rolls her eyes and comes closer to Trixie, who’s only wearing a thin white tank top, looking for something warmer among her millions of clothes. 

“No bra,” she points at Trixie’s breasts, who crosses her arms. Katya uncrosses them and puts her arms around her neck, “means I get to feel them through your shirt and use them as a pillow when I have to.”

“Because pillow boobs are a necessity,” Trixie laughs, kissing Katya softly. She nods.

“Can’t live without ‘em,” Katya replies and they kiss again. They end up making out in the closet, pressed against the cold mirror with hands traveling all the way up and down. Funny how everything becomes so intense with them and so fast. Actually, not funny. Understandable. 

“Let’s not get carried away,” Trixie says between kisses and pushes Katya away. “Cocoa?” she suggests. Katya nods in response, wiping her mouth. “Okay, then we should make some cocoa,” she starts walking out of the closet, but then stops and looks at Katya. Slowly, Trixie takes off her bra and her nipples are visible through the thin fabric of her tank top. Katya smiles at her.

“You think you’re doing this for me, but really it’s for yourself,” Katya hugs her from behind. “It’s just like they say, baby girl. Free the nipple.” Trixie laughs. 

They walk to the kitchen only in their socks, which are warm and better than any expensive slipper Trixie has to offer, even if she might not admit it. Katya’s flannel pants are longer than her legs, so she figure skates her way through the hall, either pulling Trixie by the hand or being pulled, she’s not sure. They make cocoa and even put some sprinkles and marshmallows on top of it. Diabetes it is, Katya thinks. She’s fine with diabetes as long as it means watching Trixie wear an apron. Is it healthy to be turned on by that? Shit. 

They sit on the table across from each other because “stainey liquids are not allowed on  _ my _ couch”, according to Trixie. Then she proceeds to explain the word  _ stainey _ to Katya as something that is likely to leave a stain on her many thousand dollars couch. Katya nods, thinking about the one time Trixie shut RuPaul down and realizes she has the same murderous look in her eyes. No couch stains, then. 

“So, back to the original topic,” says Trixie, “we need to talk about us. If us is even a thing. Is it? I want it to be.” She’s now wearing a light kimono over her top and the sleeves leave only her fingertips out. 

“It’s totally a thing,” Katya takes her hand. The kitchen smells like chocolate.

“Is it an exclusive thing?” Trixie asks.

“Completely exclusive. Me and you. Occasionally Adore, if you start coming over more often, because she will absolutely not leave you alone,” Katya laughs, Trixie smiles and rolls her eyes. “You’re the only one for me.”

“You’re the only one for me as well,” she rubs her thumb across Katya’s hand. “I can’t believe I actually get to say this out loud.”

“I can’t believe you hadn’t already,” Katya shakes her head, smiling. “I think you’re very worried about starting over because of Ian and this is why we’re here promising to be exclusive, etc.”

Katya shrugs. “You’re obviously the only woman in the world for me, I’ll do whatever it takes to show you that.”

“You’re like a love interest coming straight out of a 70s musical. Cheesy as fuck,” Trixie laughs. “How did I get so lucky?” She sighs. “I think you’re right. I still have a lot of issues and I’m terrified of betting on something that might go away, and even though I’m working through them, it’s gonna be a while”

“Listen up, Beatrix. I’m pretty sure not half the population of the Earth would have endured what I did to be with you. I want this, I want us. I’m staying, no matter what,” Katya squeezes her hand. “I know you have issues, but so do I.” She shrugs. “I want to be with you. I’d do anything for you, and staying is just the least.”

“Can I call you my girlfriend? I feel a huge urge to that now.”

Katya laughs and caresses Trixie’s face. “Yes, you can. Girlfriend. Подруга.”

 

…

 

“I know that Ian has been your only serious relationship and it sure as hell wasn’t ideal,  _ girlfriend _ , so I have an idea,” says Katya while running her hands through Trixie’s hair. They’re lying on the couch, Trixie on top of her because of the butt pain and their legs intertwined, a casual foot running up a shin every now and then. This is the most intimacy Katya has ever had with anyone.

“Okay, tell me about it,  _ girlfriend _ .” Trixie smiles and they kiss softly.

“I think we should do a relationship bucket list,” she says, tucking Trixie’s hair behind her ear. The strand falls back on her face. “Like all the things you always wanted to do but never did. Relationship wise. I think we have a lot to catch up on.”

“Number one,” Trixie says.

“Hey, I thought you were going to tell me it was cheesy as fuck,” Katya laughs. “I’m surprised.”

“You’re offering me to do anything I want if I put it on a list? I’m not even gonna think about it,” Trixie says. “Number one, I’d love it if you randomly surprised me by quoting musicals. That would be my actual favorite thing, bonus points if it’s Meet Me in St. Louis or Legally Blonde.”

Katyal blinks slowly. “And  _ I’m _ the cheesy one?” Trixie frowns at her. “Okay, go ahead…”

“Number two,” Trixie continues, sitting on her ankles with Katya’s thigh in the middle. She closes her eyes harshly at the pain. “I want to go on actual dates with you. Dinner, movies, whatever, but nice dates.”

“Perfect for me,” she smiles. Taking Trixie out for dinner is her new life goal. Can you imagine that? Getting all dressed up, putting on nice but not slutty makeup on and holding hands over spaghetti at Vicenzo’s? Paradise. 

“Number three, I want to know all of your embarrassing stories because I wanna have something to think about when I’m feeling down,” Trixie lowers herself and kisses Katya’s cheek.

“Number four, unlimited kissing. Number five, Christmas dinner with my parents.”

“Christmas is like… Very soon,” Katya says. “What if they hate me?”

“They won’t hate you!” Trixie smacks her shoulder. “They’re gonna love you, honestly. Just don’t mention anything to them about prostitution or drugs, we cool?”

“We cool,” Katya laughs.

“Number six, tease me in public. Maybe one day I’ll wear no panties and you’ll get your shot.” Trixie kisses her neck. 

“Well, that’s not what I expected,” says Katya while Trixie is still kissing her neck. 

“Number seven, you make dinner and I make dessert. I’m awful at cooking,” Trixie rests her chin on her hands, over Katya’s chest. “Number eight…” Her phone beeps. Trixie sits straight up and so does Katya. If it’s Visage… Oh, God. The brunette gets up and fetches her phone on the kitchen counter. “It’s her,” she announces.

“What did she say?” Katya crosses her legs as Trixie approaches the couch and sits down, then looks up from the phone.

“She said she’s in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... There's a detail i forgot to mention... I'm dividing the last chapter in two because it ended up being too long. Oops. Next part coming soon! Happy new year, hoes! Come yell at me @highonbrunost on tumblr! (I didn't even check my grammar in this, so forgive me for any mistakes!!)


	13. part 5 - your love is easy and i don't even try

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey girls hey
> 
> i really did think i wasn't gonna make it  
> but hey  
> guess what  
> i made it!!!  
> here is the final chapter to a cactus and a lily find a common pot to grow!!!
> 
> I want to thank my main hoe, [@trixyaas](https://trixyaas.tumblr.com/) for being there for me during this rollercoaster that the past few months have been and for proof reading this to guarantee i wouldn't embarrass myself (jokes on her, i did it anyway) and also for not letting me neglect Adore. You really are the best and I have no words to say how much I appreciate your friendship and support. No, wait, I do: danke! 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this and thank you all so much for reading and also for your patience. Feel free to come harass me [@highonbrunost](https://highonbrunost.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. 
> 
> Peace, I'm out.

“Alright guys,” Ms. Mattel claps her hands together, “this is it. Last run. How are we feeling?” She smiles and looks around to the tired, yet proud faces of the teenagers around her. There’s loud breathing, quiet laughter and a familiar smell of newly sewn fabric and sweat. The air feels heavy but they feel as happy as they ever could.

 

Then, of course, comes in our dearest killjoy. “About to drop dead,” murmurs Laila. Trixie pretends she doesn’t hear it and keeps smiling, but Katya straight up crosses her arms at the girl, who shrugs. That’s one big, happy family right there if you ask me. 

 

“Thanks for the input, Laila,” Katya hisses, then sighs through her nose. 

 

“You may not be able to tell, but we’re all there too.” The crowd of hormonal vultures laughs and Trixie takes her girlfriend’s hand. Technically, faculty is not allowed to show displays of affection while at work, but at this point she’s basically daring RuPaul to fire her. Seriously. They fucked in his office and made sure he caught them making out in that special staff-only restroom too. Both of them are asking for it, basically begging to get fired. 

 

“Anyway, kids, I’m sure Ms. Mattel cares to know how you’re feeling about our progress in this play and how your nerves are doing,” Katya continues, squeezing Trixie’s hand a little tighter. “Please share, we need to know if anyone is likely to throw up on scene.” Trixie rolls her eyes at that. I mean, is Katya really Katya if she’s not talking about vomit?

 

“Laila? How’s the vomit forecast?” She asks. Trixie purses her lips and smiles. It isn’t the first time that Katya’s done this, but she loves it. Whenever her girlfriend tries to defend her from even the slightest amount of sass coming from outsiders, especially students, she feels precious, protected and incredibly horny. Watching Katya’s muscles tense and her smile fade into a thin line while the skin on her forehead becomes wrinkly has slowly become her favorite thing in the world, next to forehead kisses. She fucking loves forehead kisses. She loves Katya tiptoeing and bringing her head down so she can reach it, she loves Katya’s heart being twice as big as she is and she loves having it all for herself.

 

Laila laughs then pretends to gag, which makes everyone in the room laugh. 

 

“What about  all you boogie eaters?” Katya asks. 

 

“It’s booger, honey,” Trixie whispers, leaning in closer to her ear. 

 

“Well, they should stop eating shit, then,” her girlfriend exclaims. Trixie kisses her cheek and laughs, just like everyone else in the room. “So? How are you all feeling?” 

 

The kids’ answers don’t go too far off what they already expected to hear, even the one who said she hopes Ms. Needles won’t be there because she’s terrified of her. I mean, who isn’t? Trixie is. They’re friends and all, but at a safe distance. She doesn’t want to wake up with her neck bitten or organs removed. You never know with these goths…

 

Still, their students are exhausted and death bed pale, but somehow she feels this primitive, fiery energy coming from them as they sing and dance and don’t get their lines wrong. It’s everywhere in this play, Trixie knows that even Katya can feel it just by looking at her. It’s the kind of energy that keeps you going even when your body is about to stop functioning, when your limbs cannot move on their own and your mind starts shutting down. And this energy says “RuPaul Charles, you are about to eat shit.”

 

…

 

Michelle Visage, on the opposite of what Trixie had imagined, turns out to be way less horrible than she seems to. The dog  _ is _ creepy, yes, but it’s absolutely forgiven once she actually gets to know the rest of her. Deep down, not even that deep, Michelle is an insecure and lonely woman who doesn’t have anything to lose - which on one hand is kind of sad, sure, but on the other side it means she will do everything in her incredibly underestimated power to raise hell with her new queer friends. This is starting to look like a sitcom.

 

“Alright, we all set for tomorrow?”, asks Trixie, collecting the leftover pizza that she, Katya and Sharon bought for the students to celebrate the end of rehearsals. They’ve all agreed to let Adore have it, even though Sharon doesn’t know who she is, but in her own words, “I don’t care about anyone capable of eating so much pizza on their own and I bet this bitch smells like grease.” Trixie’s skirt, by the way, is the only thing smelling like grease right now thanks to whoever ordered the cheeseburger pizza with bacon. What an asshole. Also, ew. Just ew. 

 

“Yes ma’am,” confirms Visage, sitting on the stage with her tracker sleeves ridden up to her elbow. She could pass as one of the queers easily. Trixie has done her the favor of introducing Kim and her makeup services, so her skin is looking flawless. “I’ll make sure he’s seated right up the front row.”

 

“Are you telling him about his participation or will we give him a surprise?” Katya laughs, throwing a few crumpled paper plates in the trash bag she’s holding. They’re dirty and oily and Trixie, as she sets her eyes on them, wishes she’d brought some rubber gloves. She’s having a talk with Katya about hand hygiene and vaginas when they get home. 

 

Michelle smiles, then cackles, showing her pearly white teeth that are obviously fake. Well, might be. Come on, no one’s teeth are so white! “I think I’ll tell him,” she answers, crossing her arms. “I’ll drop a hint or two, to make sure he’s wearing his best clothes.”

 

“And I thought I was the evil one,” comments Sharon, coming back from her smoke break. Katya rolls her eyes and Michelle licks her lips. She hops up on the stage and goes back to sweeping, but makes sure to kick off her unnecessarily high heel shoes before she finds the broom. 

 

“You know what they say,” Visage smiles. She does look evil from this angle, perhaps not only this one. Trixie swears she likes her. “Hell hath no fury…”

 

“Like a woman scorned,” she completes, looking up at her new friend from the table. They smile at each other. Talk about sorority all you want, nothing unites women more than the hatred they share for the same man.

 

“You’re bringing Alaska tomorrow, aren’t you?” Katya asks Sharon, making a face at the piece of cold pizza that just came in contact with her skin. Trixie makes the same face and walks over to her, taking the rest of the plates on the way. “What the fuck kind of name even is Alaska?” She laughs, opening the trash bag so Trixie can pour the rest of the plates and plastic cutlery in it.

 

“Shut the fuck up, your stripper name was Penny Tration and if you don’t think I’m using that against you you’re wrong,” Sharon holds the broom in her hand and points a finger at Katya, who raises her hands in surrender. Protective girlfriend Trixie was thinking? She needs to upgrade her version. Sharon takes the broom with the other hand and keeps sweeping strong, threatening strikes. “Yes, her name is Alaska, what about that?”

 

“Now that I know you can use that,” Katya bobs her head in direction of the broom, “as a murder weapon, it’s really nothing. Not at all. Forget I’m even here.”  Trixie smacks her in the arm and Michelle smiles at them.

 

“Sorry, Sharon… We can’t wait to meet her. Oh, what about dinner afterwards?” Trixie claps her hands together. Katya slides her arm around her waist. “I would take the kids out but I might just need a break from them.” That’s code for  _ I definitely need a break from them. _

 

Sharon shrugs as she keeps sweeping. “Sounds good to me. What do you say Ms. Boobies?”

 

Michelle rolls her eyes. “You’ve been better at this. Don’t think I forgot about that talent show when you did impressions of me, sugar bun.”

 

“Sugar bun? That’s gross, Visage. You’ve been better yourself.”

 

The women laugh and gather around the stage, Sharon crossing her legs as she sits down next to Michelle and Trixie holding her palm over Katya’s hand on her waist. See, out of all scenarios she would have voted for as “at least have a slight chance of happening”, this would never be on the list, not in a million years. She used to hate, physically avert to Katya. She used to take Michelle’s orders like a puppy because she was scared of her. She didn’t even acknowledge Sharon’s existence. Would you look at that. And now they’re here, all of them. Her weird immigrant girlfriend, her colleague who  _ does _ have a heart behind those implants and her girlfriend’s goth ex-girlfriend… who’s now her friend. And she’s just  _ a little _ scared of her.

It’s easy to assume that our lives are going to follow the steady, monotonous line that they’ve been fighting to carry forward in, against the voices in our heads that keep telling us we deserve better, we can do better, we just need something better. It’s easy to assume that all we’re going to have are songs even if all we want is something to sing about. And Trixie fell into that, and she was ashamed. The same girl who once dreamed of bright stages and glamorous dresses and elaborate dance numbers let herself be taken over by routine and her mediocre job and her awful relationship but it didn’t feel right even though that was all she had and all she knew. She was afraid of both running away and waking up on Monday morning. At some point, she doesn’t know when, she took it upon herself to break the deal that this was her life now - and forever. Deep down she knew she’d work at Alverton High until she retired, that she’d marry Ian and have his babies, that she’d go on the rest of her life with a big smile on her face making sure everyone knew her life was going according to plan, (not).

 

Then comes the big break. The hero’s lost hope and is now living their best worst life, when suddenly  _ something _ happens. But then it didn’t. Nothing extraordinary happened to her and it was angering, it was unbelievable. That’s when she got even more bitter about it. Until this woman with a thick accent decided to tag along.

 

Most of us are not going to become the superstars we have always dreamed of becoming. We won’t come fucking close to it. We’ll settle to what we have now, some of us will even, God forbid, conform. Let me just ask, does not reaching our goals make us failures? Does quitting getting beat up by life make us weak? Or does it make us boring? Fuck that. Do you know what makes a person fail? Letting it die. One day you wake up and you’re almost thirty and you haven’t gotten anywhere near where you wanted to be by now but you get up anyway, you shake it off and you keep going. So what if your life is crap? So what if you kind of hate your job? You can’t let either your head or your heart get in your way. People let themselves be defeated too easily, that’s what I mean. 

 

Okay, your dream is “dead” but you’re not. Find a new one if you will, or maybe just stop and look around. Quit thinking about how things didn’t turn out the way you expected and quit bitching about how you will never be truly happy and take a good look at your life. Trixie had always thought the only things that would make her feel like a superstar were the stage lights and the applause, and boy was she wrong. The look in the eyes of her girlfriend is something not even a standing ovation would ever grant her.

Nothing makes us as blind as the dreams and expectations that we have, as harsh as that sounds. If Trixie kept living her life in sorrow, she thinks, mourning about all that she never had, how could she ever see the beauty in front of her? 

 

Right now, there are three brilliant women surrounding her, whom she never even thought she’d talk to, but who feel like her best friends. Right now, one of them has her hand wrapped so tightly around hers that she feels it all the way to her heart. Right now, she is excited to wake up tomorrow and she has a happy song stuck in her head. If she kept letting the brightness of the stage lights in her dreams blind her, how would she ever feel the butterflies that looking at right now is giving her?

 

…

 

Trixie thinks everyone, at least once, should date a Katya. Preferably not hers, though she’s sure there’s gotta be at least five of her in the world, God would be an asshole not to make any more people like her. She doesn’t mean blondes that look taller than they really are, she means your annoying friend who happens to be insanely good at making you laugh. 

 

Dating Ian was a job. It was 24/7 and no pay for the extra hours, it was being exhausted and scared all of the time and it was everything else but what a relationship should be. When she looked at him, she felt her stomach tighten and bloat and the same time, and not in the butterfly way, but in the “I might just throw up right now” way. Deep down she knew it wasn’t meant to feel like that but what evidence did she have then? None! She took that because she thought she deserved it, and that was it for her. Well, it wasn’t.

 

Katya doesn’t know this, but Trixie started falling in love with her that day, during their first week together, when they were sitting on her couch watching a Netflix documentary about ancient art. It came to a point where Katya didn’t even realize Trixie had muted the TV because she kept talking over the narrator about all of the pieces and artists they mentioned so enthusiastically loudly that she ran out of breath, words in English and hand gestures.

 

Trixie, of course, understood about three words of that hurricane of art and history being thrown on her, but she didn’t mind. During all of the time Katya was rambling uncontrollably about the evolving of nose-drawing along history, smiling like an idiot and talking with her whole body to the point where she stood up so she could move more, Trixie sat down on the couch and she swears she doesn’t remember blinking from her serious case of heart eyes, while simultaneously biting her lower lip softly but hard enough to scrape of some lipstick off of it. She loved every second of it, but she won’t be able to tell you anything about it. Just sitting there and watching her girlfriend, Trixie thought about Katya and how happy she made her, because Katya did to her whatever art and 1500s paintings did to her favorite Russian nutcase.

 

“What?” Katya asked, laughing as she stood right in front of the TV. “What is it?”

 

“Nothing, I just like you,” Trixie smiled back and laughed. Katya threw herself at her, kissing her face all over and nibbling her lips. So this is what’s supposed to feel like, she realized. She didn’t have words for this feeling, this realization, but she kinda knew that maybe she didn’t need them. Sometimes the feeling is just enough.

 

And it’s also constant. The feeling is right there, even when they’re bored, even when they argue but also when they apologize and when they wake each other up from nightmares. Dating Katya is seeing the world exactly like it has been all along but suddenly learning how to pick up on the details that you have been missing since forever. Being around her is letting out that laugh you’ve been trying to swallow down for the past half an hour from something you most definitely shouldn’t be laughing about. Waking up next to her is not knowing what the rest of your day will be like, but even if you won the lottery, it still wouldn’t feel better than this. 

 

“Are you ready?” She asks Trixie, holding both of her hands backstage, five minutes before the show starts. Trixie nods, worried she might fall down from her heels from how nervous she is. “Sugar, you’re literally shaking.”

 

“I know,” she answers, sighing. “I’m worried something might go wrong.” There’s students walking around everywhere, shouting orders and insults at each other. Sharon is bossing them around with her impossibly creepy stares and deep smoker voice. 

 

“Don’t think about that, okay?” Katya puts her hands on Trixie’s face and rubs her thumbs softly on her skin. Her hands are always so cold that at this point Trixie doesn’t even feel odd  anymore when they touch. “Focus on now, can you do that?”

 

“I think so,” Trixie answers. She’s literally running out of air. One of the dancers trips and falls down. Laila helps her get up. Sharon yells at them both for not being in their places. Someone is crying and Trixie thinks it’s Ryan. Turns out,  _ now _ is already as chaotic as it gets.

 

“Trixie, look at me,” Katya turns her face so now they’re staring at each other. “Right here, right now... I’m looking at you and my heart loves the view.” Trixie immediately starts laughing.

 

“Oh my God, when I said I wanted you to watch some musicals I did  _ not _ mean High School Musical, babe,” she says, somehow even forgetting that she was just about to pass out. What won’t indignation do to us.

 

“I swear I tried but it would take me a month to watch all of that and my attention span isn’t all that,” Katya smiles. “The old age, you know.” Trixie rolls her eyes, pulling her girlfriend in for a kiss. 

 

“Would the two lovebirds please fucking quit the kissing and actually do something? We have a show to put on and you’re not helping by licking each other’s makeup off,” Sharon yells as she sews shut a small hole that has opened in the pants of the Phantom. Beside her, the girl who tripped accepts some water from Laila while Brittany runs in to fix her makeup.

 

“Gay kissing, f-bombs and tears,” Laila sighs. “I fucking love musical theater.” 

 

“Alright everyone, are we ready to get in our positions?,” Trixie claps, taking two steps towards the students. “We have a full house tonight, do you copy? Full. House.” Thankfully, no one has noticed the crowd of strippers that Adore has invited who are sitting in the back or the bunch of random gays Kim has brought in - the one true ally, really. Even Naomi showed up, and she already has her eyes set on a juicy Mrs. Visage, who’s obviously loving the attention. “You go out there now and you do not only your best, but your best’s best. We have a mission here, kids and I hope you know what it is.”

 

“Make Principal Charles EAT IT,” Ryan throws his fist up as the crowd of students yell along with him.

 

“Yeah, that too,” says Trixie, and the kids laugh. “Don’t forget how you ended up here though. And whatever that reason is, make sure that this full house gets that tonight, okay?” The kids agree. “I’m not hearing it,” Trixie says, louder, and smiles when the kids shout  _ yeah _ at the top of their lungs. 

 

“Guys, there’s a few words I’d like to say as well, before we get this started. It’s an old Russian proverb that means a lot to me, it goes: без грязных мыслей есть только грязные блюда.”

 

“What does it mean?” Matt asks and the kids around him nod and murmur, curious.

 

“Without dirty thoughts, there are only dirty dishes.” The rowdy crowd suddenly grows quieter. “It sounds nicer in Russian. .” Crickets. “Sharon, anything you’d like to add?”

 

“It’s seven p.m. and I’m drunk on whiskey in front of fifty kids dressed up in gowns and it’s the first time my girlfriend’s here to see what I do for a living. Try not to embarrass me. Also, we’re already late so if anyone would like to get started,” Sharon smiles, but only barely. “Stop fucking staring at me and go introduce the play!”

 

Trixie lifts up her hands in surrender and goes to the front of the stage in that awkward rushed run-walk thing she does when she’s sensing any disturbance of punctuality. She walks down the stage to the center, where the microphone stands. RuPaul is sitting on the front row, sided by Michelle. The moment she takes to look him in the eyes takes her nerves all away. She is ready for this. She was born ready for this. 

 

“Good night everyone, parents, teachers…” strippers, Trixie smiles. “I hope you’re all set because our spring play, which we have worked very hard on, is about to begin.” There is a round of applause. “Even though we’ve all been following this journey up close, and we’ve seen the good, the bad and the ugly of all of this, we still know only half of what these little guys here have put themselves through. There has been a huge amount of barriers broken and bridges built and friendships developed, but most importantly, I have seen every single one of those kids pour their heart out to make sure this happens and to make sure it’s perfect. Ladies and gentlemen, I proudly present to you our Alverton High Spring Musical: The Phantom of the Opera.”

 

After the applause dies down and Trixie has left the stage, the lights are turned off and the curtain is lifted and Sharon conducts the band with majesty through the beginning of the play. The chandelier they built from scratch glistens under the spotlights, there is no stuttering on the first scene, or the second, or the third. Backstage, Trixie helps someone get in place and fixes someone else’s tie, hands water to another one who is nervous and peeks at the stage to make sure everything is going according to plan. If breathing weren’t involuntary she would’ve forgotten to do it by now, and still she feels as if she’s about to faint at any glimpse of a detail going moderately wrong - she can afford going without oxygen but she can’t bare to even consider anything else but perfection.

 

“Babygirl, you look like you’re about to pass out,” Trixie hears Katya whisper as she grabs her by the waist. Trixie lets out a big breath and gives in to Katya’s touch.

 

“Good because I feel like I’m about to die,” Trixie answers. She can feel the mascara in her left eye start to smudge under her lower lashes and that is never a good sign. Katya sighs through her nose and holds Trixie’s chin.

 

“You are going to be fine,” she affirms. “I trust you, and I believe in you and so does everyone else.”

 

“Yeah, no pressure,” Trixie wrinkles her nose. Katya laughs and pecks her girlfriend’s lips. 

 

“Trixie,” Katya swings her chin from side to side, “you got this. You’re going to blow everyone’s mind but don’t wait until the end of this to realize it. Now go get that lightning malfunction over there and I’ll glue Brittany's wig to her head.”

 

“I love you,” Trixie says, already missing the arm she knows Katya is about to take off her back.

 

“I love you,” Katya replies.

 

“I would love to have my hair done,” Brittany whispers as she comes up behind Katya and takes her away by the shoulders. Trixie blows her a kiss and her girlfriend pretends to bite it. They are so adorable it’s sickening.

 

…

 

Laila performs beautifully. Her voice echoes through the building and everyone gasps for air in their seats. When following the choreography, her arms move swiftly and she looks as if she’s about to fly away at any second, when spinning around, her dress, as heavy as it looks, feels like it’s made of nothing but silk and clouds. When she cries, her makeup runs down all the way down to her chin and somehow even her accent is convincing. Say whatever you want, Trixie knows a superstar when she sees one. 

 

There is thunderous applause as the audience gives the group of teens a standing ovation and Trixie cries with a heart overflowing with joy. She is a good director, she realizes, and a good teacher. And she is trying to be a good person but she certainly doesn’t feel like one knowing that in two minutes she is going to steal these kids’ moment. Which is unfair and she doesn’t have the right to do this but still she grabs the microphone and smiles as the kids flee backstage. She hates herself for this.

 

“Thank you everyone for your lovely reaction. It feels like I just won an Oscar!” She laughs, and so does the crowd along with her. “These kids, each and every single one of them have given so much of themselves to put into this wonderful, superb play and I’d like to thank them because tonight we just made history.” There is another brief, but equally enthusiastic round of applause. “I would also like to thank Ms. Sharon Needles, down there with the band, for making the musical part of this musical happen. Without her we would be lost.” 

 

Sharon stands up and people clap for her too. If Trixie didn’t know her, she’d say that it was a tear she saw shedding from her eye. “I would also like to thank the one person who came up with all of the good ideas, all of the solutions and all of the laughter we had during this project, my girlfriend Ms. Katya Zamolodchikova,” she sticks out her hand for Katya to hold it. “This woman is the reason we didn’t go nuts during this time. And she is also the reason why this stage and all of the artists look so beautiful - we couldn’t have dreamed of a better set designer or stylist.” Another round of applause and wolf whistling for Katya. “Now, we do have quite an announcement to make, but before that, we’d like to invite the man who made all of this possible to come up here on stage as we pay him a short, but heartfelt, homage.”

 

RuPaul proudly stands up as the spotlight finds his seat on the first row. Oh, so professional these kids are. Trixie wants to kiss all of their foreheads, even the oily ones, for being such bright, talented and committed little dirtbags. As the light follows Ru up the stage, there is thunderous applause and he mouths little thank yous here and there. Trixie looks at Katya, at Sharon, then at Michelle and they all nod back at her, she even meets Alyssa’s eyes in the crowd. The show is only beginning. 

 

“This man who stands before you has played great part in the spectacle that you all have just witnessed,” Trixie smiles with the microphone in her hand. She grips it so tightly she might snap a nail. All of the stage is dark, except for a blinding light shining straight into RuPaul’s eyes - you can tell just how uncomfortable he is by looking at his fiddly hands. I hope it blinds him, she thinks.

 

“First, he cancelled last term’s Art Exhibition, which is certainly a consistent action for the greatest arts and culture supporter in Alverton.” The crowd, who was all ready to cheer, suddenly fell silent. The principal then looked at Trixie with widened eyes, to which she answered with taking the microphone from it’s stand and looking at him as if he were the outcast nerd and she was the cheerleader in a 90’s movie. In other words, it was a look of pure defiance and disdain. She walks around him, slowly. “Then, this same man did everything in his power to guarantee that this play would be absolute hell for us, including taking away our  _ basic _ needs and  _ all _ of our budget. Everything you saw on this stage was either built, donated or bought by us, Beatrix and Katya, or fundraised by our dearest students.”

You could hear crickets if you tried. Trixie now stands beside her boss, looking into his eyes. She made sure to wear her tallest shoes for this, and you know what? It was totally worth it. She turns her head back to the crowd and her blonde locks smack straight into RuPaul’s face. “It was degrading, humiliating - every second of it. Watching him walk into our rehearsals every week, knowing just what look of shame was coming for you…” she shakes her head. “And why? Why was he doing all of that?” She smirks. “The football team, of course. Because the sports department deserved it so much more than us, right? Championships to win and all that… Or not.”

 

“It didn’t take long, of course, for us to find out, after talking to Michelle Visage, that it wasn’t exactly like that.” Michelle stands up and there is some cheering that comes from the strippers, since everyone else is absolutely mortified. “We found out that Michelle had been having both trouble at school  _ and  _ at home because the two men in her life - her husband and her boss - were not only having an affair,” Trixie pauses, anticipating the gasp that follows, “but were also using  _ public money that was meant for our school _ to run away to Mexico.”

 

The crowd is now lost in whispers, screams and boos. RuPaul stands petrified in the center of the stage. Katya has never looked so proud. “This is why,” Trixie continues, “law enforcement agents Davenport and Carrera would like to accompany you to Alverton’s police station. They need to have a little chit chat.” As the officers, who had been sitting among the crowd all along, stand up and walk to the stage, from where RuPaul tries to flee from the backstage but a barrier of fifty teenagers stops him. This bitch is down. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is all for today. Thank you for coming and let justice be served! Good night!” Trixie drops her mic. Another standing ovation comes from a crowd who looks half shocked and half satisfied. 

 

Trixie wants to live in this moment forever, she thinks, as Katya runs up to her and throws herself into her arms. They kiss like the world is ending in front of an entire town plus a few weirdos from Boston. They are avenged. They love each other. Life is good. 

 

…

 

On her third anniversary with Katya, Trixie she wakes up in a terrible mood, with a killer migraine and the news that Ian is starting to get in touch with his lawyers again. She groans, turns to the side and buries her phone underneath her pillow because maybe that’ll make it disappear. It’s six o’clock in the morning on a Thursday and even with the heater, the air is so cold it hurts her face. She wonders if placing the pillow over her head will make her disappear too. 

 

It’s almost painful to feel her feet touch the ground before she puts on her pink slippers, and she doesn’t even make the bed like she does every day. Where the fuck is her Imitrex? Ugh. She massages her forehead as she walks into the kitchen only to find Katya half asleep on their dining table over a pile of essays that are probably all shit. She sighs, opening the fridge.

 

“Honey, what had we agreed on about working on the dining table?” She says, pushing the orange juice aside. She shuts the refrigerator door closed with her cold sparkling Perrier water in hand. There is no water like European water. 

 

“I’m sorry doll, but I must have these done until third period today and I had no time this week,” Katya lifts her head to kiss Trixie, who stands behind her. “Visage has really been breathing down my neck with the preparations for the Exhibition.”

 

Trixie places her hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder and squeezes it. Katya is wearing her old Moscow State University shirt, and the fabric is nearly giving up. “You’re forgiven, but only because it’s a special day.”

Katya smiles. “Happy Fruitcake Toss Day, my darling dearest,” she purrs, rolling her Russian Rs the way she knows Trixie likes. And she does. She kisses the top of Katya’s head.

 

“Happy Fruitcake Toss Day, I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

“Do you know where my Imitrex is?” Trixie asks, then sips her water. She leaves it on the table and walks back into the kitchen to find some highly caloric breakfast because she feels like she’s gonna need it today. No luck with that, and may she ask, who the fuck decided that going all natural and gluten free was a good idea? (It was her. She did this to herself.) 

 

“Have you checked the bathroom cabinet?” Katya responds, taking the pencil in her hand again. “If it isn’t there then I think we’re all out. Sorry.”

 

“Fuck,” Trixie murmurs, running to the bathroom. She has, in fact, run out of migraine pills so she’s gonna have to stick with Advil. “Ugh, I’m gonna have to stop at the drugstore on the way to school. What time do you have to be there again?”

 

“As early as possible, if I’m honest,” Trixie hears her yell back at her from the dining room. “Should I take the Benz and you can go with the Rover?”

 

“Yeah, please,” Trixie yells with a mouthful of toothpaste foam in her mouth. She spits it out. “Have you RSVPd Kim’s opening yet?”

 

“Nope, thought you had!” Trixie rolls her eyes. Whatever. Kim knows they wouldn’t miss her salon inauguration anyway, but she’ll text just to make sure. She types out a quick message and then scrolls around on Facebook as she brushes her teeth. “Are you staying until the Exhibition or are you coming home to change?”

 

“I already have my clothes in the car so I’ll just stay there. Do you think you can make it?” Katya asks. Trixie spits on the sink.

 

“Honey of course I’ll make it! It’s your special night!” She closes the faucet and dries her mouth with a hand towel. She emerges from the bathroom with her hair still up in rolls. “Can I go, even if I look like this?”

 

Katya stands up, smiling as Trixie pouts. “Sugar, you are so stunning that someone might mistake you for the masterpiece.” She kisses her forehead and then her lips. 

 

“Thank you. Now go brush those teeth or someone might mistake you for a trashcan, smelly cat.” Trixie smiles then slaps Katya’s bum as she walks past her. They laugh as Trixie makes breakfast with whatever shit kind of granola they still have (turns out dieting doesn’t work if you eat  _ all _ of the diet food at once. Oops.) and some questionable yogurt, which makes her 

realize they should just go back to pancakes and waffles. 

 

Katya gets dressed while she puts on her makeup and it takes her three tries to get the lipstick right. She puts on a long sleeved dress, thick tights and brown Burberry boots. As soon as she’s done combing her hair, she only looks half dead, and she hurries out to the drugstore thinking this is only going to be a tiring day, completely oblivious of what’s to come. 

 

She ignores the twitching on her right eye and tries to think about an outfit to wear tonight, which, of course, she should have done yesterday, or even before that, but the pile of notebooks on her desk at school didn’t let her.

 

She brushes through her hair after spraying it with a ninety dollar leave-in spray, and chuckles to herself thinking about the time she cut it short, above her shoulders, and dyed it brown. What a sin, what a sacrilege. Let hair like that go, she must have been crazy. But then again, she thinks, that was the year of change in her life. And God, as wonderful as it was, she hopes to never go through anything close to that ever again. Of course, she did meet the love of her life, her best friend and put not one, but two assholes in serious issues with the law which felt awesome, not to mention the iconic The Phantom of The Opera spectacle that she put up. 

 

Today, though, as special as it should be, feels to her as uneventful yet stressful. Trixie kisses Katya goodbye as she rushes to the door, car keys in hand along with her heels. She sits on the Italian leather seat inside her new SUV (which isn’t orange, but pearl colored), and exhales air she didn’t even realize she had been holding.

 

Today was supposed to be special. But it’s not. Days like these almost make her forget what dating Katya is like and why it is so crucial to her. 

 

Dating Katya is watching Grey’s Anatomy in silence until the TV is muted and she turns to you to ask if you still wanna get married someday. It’s answering that you don’t know. It’s her suggesting that you would look beautiful in a pink or in a gold dress walking down the aisle and confessing she doesn’t mind marriage but she wants to stay with you as long as she lives, just like anyone else would say “oh I think it’s raining outside.” Dating Katya is making her promise she’s gonna watch all of your favorite musicals so she gets your references, it’s getting matching tattoos of a tiny cactus on their ankles then letting her draw a beautiful lily for you to tattoo later but finding it so beautiful you put it up on your wall as soon as she’s done. Dating Katya is coming home to your favorite food to have left it’s smell all over the place and finding your girlfriend cooking in her nicest lingerie and never making it to dinner. Dating Katya is being late to every party, it’s a dirty look from your mom because you two have been eating too much dessert and not leaving any for the other guests. Dating Katya is making faces at each other through the windows in your classroom doors and it’s seeing the students’ faces light up when you’re together. Dating Katya is living the biggest adventures in your hometown and in a rut, which had always seemed impossible. 

 

Dating Katya is, for the first time in a long long time, not really knowing what you’re doing and not being sure of where you stand, but knowing it’s exactly where you’re meant to be. She must never let herself forget this. 

 

This is why it hurts her that it’s her third year together with Katya and they don’t even have any special plans. Why is it so disappointing to fall into a rut? Why don’t they call in sick and just run off to Cancun like they did last year? Or to New York? Why don’t they text each other dirty things in the middle of their classes and meet in the third floor bathroom that nobody uses because they think it’s haunted? (Someone heard a grunt coming from there. It was Katya while Trixie was between her legs). Trixie drops her shoes on the passenger seat, along with her purse and files. She doesn’t know what they’re doing today, but they are having one hell of a day.

She opens the car door and doesn’t close it, running back inside, opens the door and as she is about to yell something to the love of her life, Trixie hears her on the phone. 

 

“No, she’s already left,” Katya says, then giggles. “Oh, Judy, you’ll see! The exhibition will be beautiful, I’m so lucky Trixie wanted to help with the decor! And thank you for coming today, it’s so important to me to have you there tonight!”

 

Trixie closes the door slowly, careful not to make too much noise, and skips back to the car, starts it and drives. 

 

Who does she think she is? Jesus. How fucking selfish of her to forget that tonight, not only it is their anniversary, but also Katya’s biggest Art Exhibition yet. Christ on a stick, she needs to get her shit together. She couldn’t believe that she almost threw away her love’s most important night because she wanted to feel excitement. She can be such an asshole sometimes. And, no, she won’t tell anyone that she drove all the way to school, even skipping the drugstore, listening to her anger/regret playlist. 

This could be just a normal day, like all the others they have had. But it’s not. Trixie’s right about that part, but she’s wrong about what makes it so.

 

…

 

Trixie doesn’t change from her work clothes to go to Katya’s Exhibit, but she finds her girlfriend wearing the prettiest LBD in the world, and it looks as if it was made just for her. She walks into the room with a big smile on her face and kisses Katya very softly, sweetly. 

 

“A room full of art and still I only have eyes for you,” she says, holding her hand. 

 

“Well, Katya laughs, “you better make an effort. Just for now, though. You can stare as much as you want once we get home.” They share another quick kiss, and as soon as Trixie turns around she finds her mother and father running towards her.

 

“Oh, Beatrix, have you seen how wonderful is all of this?” Judy asks, kissing her cheek. Trixie nods as she lets her father embrace her.

 

“Don’t I have the most spectacular girlfriend in the world?” She responds, winking at Katya, who’s walking towards a group of people who’ve just arrived. She winks back. “I’ve only gotten here, I didn’t have a chance to look around quite yet.”

 

“Why don’t you go talk to Michelle and then we’ll walk together?” Her father suggests, and so she does. They talk about how wonderful, how full of people it is. Alverton’s private school students and the ones from other three towns, along with teachers and parents have all come to see. The gym has turned into what the prettiest gallery of France could only dream of becoming, at least in Trixie’s eyes. The Mona Lisa only wishes she looked as good as that stickman with thoughtful eyebrows on the senior section. 

 

As the night flows, Trixie spots many familiar faces in the crowd - like Laila, who’s come all the way from college to see what her favorite teachers are up to, or Sharon and Alaska, who are now happily married and even Kim showed up, looking drop dead gorgeous but unforgivingly tired from the chaos with the inauguration. There’s a snack table and coffee and tea and cocoa that taste just like home, and hey, who cares if there’s no champagne, this is as cozy as it’s supposed to be, as everything else that Ms. Zamolodchikova does for her kids. I mean, Adore cares that there’s no champagne so that’s why she fixed herself a bottle of “water”. Funny enough, no one thinks anything of her looking at the thoughtful stickman and laughing her ass off (everyone one else wishes they were as brave). Katya’s night is perfect, and the part of Trixie that felt angry at herself for not caring about it earlier is getting quieter and quieter as the pride in her heart overflows and reddens her cheeks. 

 

At around ten o’clock, an hour past what the closing time should be, Katya walks to the back of the gym, close to the snack table, grabs a mic and calls everyone’s attention. “Good night everyone,” she stars as the public gathers closer to her. Trixie is right on the front. “Thank you so very much for being here tonight, words are not enough to show how much I appreciate your presence so I’m calling for a group hug. Just kidding. A group handshake is enough.” The crowd laughs and of course some boys in the back collectively shake hands. 

 

“Tonight is such an important night for me and for my lovely, talented and creative minions, who have all really overcome the challenges thrown at them and who were kind enough to share these brilliant pieces of the finest art with all of us. Thank you too, guys.” There is a short round of applause and wolf whistling for the students, who all laugh and smile and blush at the recognition. “Unfortunately, the night is coming to an end and I must be brief, but I couldn’t finish without thanking our lovely principal, Ms. Visage, for being so supportive and understanding how much all of this means to us, but especially for letting us know that it means the same to you,” she smiles. Visage mouths ‘thank you’ back to her. 

 

“Or,” she continues, “without thanking my cолнышко, my sunshine, Ms. Mattel.” Trixie smiles and blows Katya a kiss. “Come here, sugar, come on,” Trixie says no but then Katya pulls her by the hand to the front of the crowd. “You have not only helped make this day even more special by turning this gym into a fine art gallery, but you also help me every single day, my muse. And who would have thought that we’d be here today, ready to steal the show one more time. I love you, Куколка and I love everything you do to me, for me.”

 

“Baby, what are you doing?” Trixie whispers, touching Katya’s face. She feels like a prom queen who didn’t know she had been running for the title. “You don’t have to do this, it’s your night!”

 

Katya holds her hand, and smiles the kind of smile Trixie has only seen once before, the first time they woke up together after they moved in together. Her heart beats faster and her hands get suddenly so sweaty she thinks Katya’s might slip. 

 

“There is so much more to you than, well, all of this,” she laughs and Trixie rolls her eyes. “When people look at you, they see beauty and this precious little smile of yours, these red cheeks and your impressive makeup skills. What we all see on the outside is nothing but a fraction of what’s inside of you.” 

 

“Katya…” Trixie whispers. Those are  _ not _ tears in her eyes. They’re not. 

 

Suddenly, ten students walk out of the crowd holding their own paintings in hand. All of them are related to love, either a kissing couple or a heart or somewhat romantic animals. “This is why,” Katya continues, “the masterpiece tonight is made not only of one painting, but ten. And to represent you, and how much more of you there is behind all of this, these paintings are also not only what they, but more.”

 

The kids tear away the drawn-on canvas to reveal a few words written underneath their art. When Trixie turns back to Katya, she is kneeling down and holding the most beautiful ring she has ever seen in her entire life.

 

**Я очень люблю тебя и прошу стать моей женой. пожалуйста?** **  
**  


Trixie smiles and nods as the crowd cheers. “Да, миллион раз да”

 

The funny thing Trixie learned is that sometimes we raise such big expectations about our happily ever after that we forget that it all starts with a happy today. 

 

…

 

Trixie Mattel used to think she was a good girl - the very type that doesn’t drink or smoke or cuss. Turns out, she’s actually just a girl with mild drinking problems, who will sometimes share a cigarette with her fiancée and tells her the dirtiest things when they’re alone in the bedroom. 

Trixie thought that whatever she did defined who she was and therefore she tried so, but so hard to be the best person she could that she ended up becoming trapped in her own Barbie Dream Life nightmare of failed relationships and faking her way through her life. It took her a Russian nutcase and a few teenagers to help her out of it, sure, but more than anything it took her own will to take a step back and realize that maybe she was so far gone into her own delusion that she had no idea who she was anymore.

 

The first step was realizing that maybe it was only so hard to be herself because she wasn’t being herself. What it took of her to realize that was an incredibly annoying Russian colleague she hated with a burning passion (turns out she was just horny, who’d have guessed). From the moment she stopped  _ trying _ to be the person she thought she was supposed to be, suddenly liking things and talking to people and picking out clothes and just existing in general became not only easy and flowy, but also, dare I say… enjoyable. 

 

It felt nice not to go to church every Sunday, God knows how Trixie feels about Him and she ain’t playing games. She was relieved to turn down a charity event to spend the weekend with Kim in Boston after she moved there. The look on the face of the cashier at the liquor store was priceless when she - Trixie Mattel!! - bought not one, but two bottles of tequila for that weekend, along with a pack of tiny cocktail umbrellas, which were all pink. Getting a tattoo with Katya was the highpoint of being her and living her life, going skinny dipping with her was fun too. Can you picture that? Trixie Mattel not only wearing a bikini but also taking it off in front of another person. She planned a wedding too, and she bought a dress that was not white, but gold, with a pink ribbon on her waist. She won’t show it to Katya until the doors open and she’s waiting there at the altar. 

Huh, that’s funny if you think about it. Trixie, who always had such strict ideas about being a “good girl”, ended up becoming the opposite of everything she ever dreamed of, yet somehow accomplished all of the “good girl” goals. Maybe, she thinks now, as she looks at her father before they open the doors and she’s ready to walk down the aisle, there are no good and bad people. It’s all so relative. And it makes no sense, after all.

 

“Ready?” Arthur asks her, holding the breath Trixie knows is keeping him from crying. She nods.

 

“Never better,” she answers. He smiles, kisses her forehead. You know, this is enough for her. Mr. Mattel never kissed her forehead when she tried to be his perfect daughter. She smiles at him, as he signals to the assistant to open the door. They turn around and position themselves at the entrance. 

 

As the sight of the aisle reveals itself before them, the music starts playing and Katya stands there, waiting. Trixie’s eyes meet hers and they share a quick smile before they both start crying.

 

Trixie Mattel used to think she wanted to be a good girl, the very type that doesn’t drink or smoke or cuss. What she learned, though, is that the look on the face of that woman waiting for her at the altar in a gorgeous golden tux, is bigger than good and bad, bigger than right or wrong. It’s a look that tells her that she is loved for exactly who she is, the rest… is just the rest. 

 


End file.
